Her Name in the Darkness
by AlisonAPD
Summary: When Loki sees the reflection of a girl with red hair in the water he leaves everything he knows to find her; his world was falling apart anyway. (Background Thorki / Logyn with eventual blackfrost; rated M for sex and torture. Not for the faint of heart.) Pre-MCU Thor setting; Spirited Away AU - prompt fill for the amazing futurerustfuture-dust who is my first blackfrost muse.
1. Trees, Rocks, and Water

**1. Trees, Rocks, and Water**

* * *

She first appeared on the surface of the water in his bath, red spangles of hair waving around Loki's knees. He was still trying to accustom himself to new visions, appearances, his dreams that told the future; it was with a bolt of fright he pulled his legs close to his chest when he saw her reflection. "Who are you?" he asked. The girl was too beautiful to be dangerous – or so he hoped. He had already found beauty sometimes hid a sharp tooth.

The red curls floated around her lovely face, but she didn't reply. Instead the girl simply regarded him with those steady eyes, green as his own. Green as the moss in the woods where he dallied with the elms – he had found a young tree that very day and coupled with the nymph inside, rolling with the slender leaf-maiden among bark, leaves and sticky sap until they both exploded with pleasure.

Hence, the bath.

Loki tried once more. "Can you hear me? I wish you could talk." Still no reply, merely one quizzical eyebrow and an outstretched hand, as though she were stretching out to find him. Quickly he reached for her, but his eager fingers dappled the water's surface and she disappeared.

* * *

"Were you talking to the water in there?" Thor ended his question with a loud laugh, not waiting for the answer to his question.

"More interesting than talking to you." Loki tried to evade Thor in the corridor, but his brother found the edge of the towel; with a sudden jerk he ripped it off and ran away, hooting and waving the linen overhead like a flag. Loki was left in the hall shivering, cold, and entirely nude. He uttered a long slew of curses, covered his privates with one hand and dashed back to his room. Luckily he didn't run into Sif on the way; the very thought made him shudder.

Perhaps he should request a private bath attached to his rooms so his brother could no longer steal his towels. But if he did, would She appear in the water? No, it was safer to use the same place. However, next time he would bring his clothes and hide them near the tub so Thor couldn't fill his pockets with frogs or make him run naked through the palace.

And when his brother went to bathe that evening Loki would be certain to have a surprise waiting as revenge – perhaps a few snakes under the soap would make Thor think twice about stealing towels in the future.

He ignored the luxurious suit of clothes left out across his bed and dressed in simple jerkin and hose. As he combed his hair back from his face with his hands, a red-white-green movement at the corner of the mirror made him catch his breath. Was it her? Quickly he turned to see if he could find the stunning redhead, but the corner of the room was empty.

* * *

Very late after dinner that night, Thor crawled into Loki's bed. They had shared a mattress when they were young, and it was still a comfort to cling together under the covers or converse about the day when all others were asleep.

Loki was already lost in a dream about the green eyes of the beautiful woman in the water. The garments she wore were strange – black, made of a material he had never seen before – and tight, closed up over her neck. Her breasts strained against the midnight clothes; he would have given his right thumb to be able to touch them, feel their weight in his palms.

So when Thor thrust his cold feet against his legs he awoke in a bad mood, angered at the sudden loss of the girl's vision. "What the Hel are you doing?" Loki demanded. "Get out."

"Sif allowed me to kiss her after we danced together." Even in the darkness of the room Loki could see his brother's grin. "Nidhoffer's belly, it was amazing! Did you know a girl's lips are warm? And not wet at all – very pleasant."

"Congratulations, and by the way I was asleep."

"And having a good dream by the way your sheets fly like a standard over your pole." Thor pretended to grope for Loki's groin.

"Get off! And if we speak of that, I imagine your own hammer is straining against your breeches after you shared kisses with Lady Sif."

"Mmm. 'Tis true, I cannot lie. I'faith I nearly stole to her bed instead of yours! However Mother would beat me senseless with a cooking ladle if I did."

They moved closer; their proximity allowed both erections to press against the other's hip. It was an old dance, one they had done many times: the fact it was forbidden gave them both pleasure. Loki thought of telling Thor about his dream and the red beauty he saw in his bath, but his brother strained in release and muffled his cries against Loki's chest.

"Gods!" Thor marveled when he had caught his breath. "It gets better each time. I cannot wait until I can do this at Sif's side."

* * *

Although he chased his previous dream, Loki was never able to recapture the girl. Instead he tumbled into nightmares of a long fall among the stars, horrifying discoveries in a frozen land, torture at the hands of a being with no face, his own imprisonment in a circular, glass cage. When a large flying snake found him and began to wind its metallic body around his own to strangle him with its coils, he awoke with a loud curse.

Instead of the serpent, he found he was being smothered by Thor. At some point during the night his brother had flung one heavy arm and a leg over his body so Loki was held in a warm, possessive embrace. He put his sharp elbows to use and hit Thor in his midriff. "Leave me alone, you great idiot," he grumbled until he was able to break free and spring out of the bed.

_Now, what mischief can I wreak today?_ At once Loki thought of a large stone he had seen by the Gopul River; he knew there was a naughty spirit imprisoned within. If he could release it for a few hours there could be delicious loveplay as a result; he imagined a sultry afternoon by the water and a dryad tickling his prick.

Quickly he pulled on the same tunic and hose he wore the day before and stole out of the room. His plan was to find something in the kitchens and run outside before Petro, their empty-headed tutor, found him and dragged him by the ear to the schoolroom for long, boring lessons about The Art of War. Naturally Odin would have a long lecture when he returned, but probably he would be in trouble for something else as well: not bashing his opponent over the head hard enough, not eating enough for lunch. And so, he reasoned, he might as well receive punishment as well for something he wanted to do.

Loki held his breath as he found a roll of bread, heel of cheese, several apples. With the loot in his shirt, he jumped out an open window and ran off without a backwards look.

* * *

"I dream of stars and rain, snow and flight. Although I cannot move, I soar through a thousand different voyages each day."

The stone spirit swung his feet in the water and stared into the distance. He was indeed beautiful: a brown youth with long curls and dark eyes. Loki pulled him closer with one arm to rest his head on the boy's shoulder; casually he played with the fellow's hair. "I like that," he said. "To journey without moving – it makes it seem all things are possible. Were you something else before you were a stone?"

"It is almost too long ago to remember. I think I moved within ice, within fire – but is it all a fantasy? Probably it is mere phantoms, splinters of imagination. Would you like me to suck you now?"

Loki grinned. Stone dryads were always so ready to jump straight into a tumble; perhaps it came from being permanently hard. The very thought made his sex jut between his thighs; he had abandoned his breeches as soon as he arrived in the hidden vale by the river. "How about a kiss first?" He captured the youth's lips with his own and climbed onto the boy's lap in one fluid motion.

He would have liked to prolong the ecstacy, but the dryad pushed him down with muscled arms onto the soft grass by the river and pummeled his hips forward in an escalating rhythm. Although Loki protested, the youth got his prick between their stomachs and thrust faster until he spent all over their bellies where they were pressed together.

As soon as his ejaculation was over the youth curled forward and became motionless, until he became cold rock once more.

Loki pounded his fist into the mud with frustration before he rose and stalked into the water. He had forgotten how lusty stone dryads were; nymphs were far more patient at loveplay. His next trip would be a return to the forest. Could _no one_ last as long as he needed? He had yet to find a partner lasting long enough to truly satisfy his desires.

Without hesitation he clutched his hardness under the water; he would simply have to release his own seed. Returning to the palace in that tumescent state simply wasn't an option, especially with Thor around to torture him.

A spangle of red light on the surface of the water made him stop. One hand still curled around himself, Loki felt his heart beat faster as she appeared – the lovely girl from his bath. "Hello," he whispered. "I wish you could talk to me."

Her mouth opened and she said something – a word with three syllables. "Datassa," he thought it was; Loki repeated the word reverently. "Will you not come out and visit me?" he asked.

"Natasha." The word fluttered on the breeze. "My name is Natasha, and I can't come out, dumbass. I'm stuck in here."

He was delighted they were finally able to speak, even though this Natasha was nothing more than an image on the waves. "'Dumbass'? What does that mean? Your words are filled with mystery…" Belatedly Loki realized he still clutched his erection; quickly he released his 'old chap' and tiptoed closer to where her reflection wavered on the water. "One day I will find you and see you in the flesh. You are very beautiful."

"Yeah, whatever. Hey, are you naked?"

Loki spread his arms wide. "Do you like it?" His breath caught in his chest, and he felt a wonderful heat spread through his belly.

The girl laughed, and a teasing little dimple appeared in one corner of her chin. "You're a little young for me. Cute, but young. But right now it seems you're the only one I can communicate with while I'm in this hole."

"Hole? You are in a well? Imprisoned, perhaps. I will rescue you!" A quest for a maiden – surely she would reward him with kisses when he found her. Gods, had his prick ever been so rampant? It was as though he had a dragon made of flesh down there, ready to spew fire any instant.

"We were on an op in Latveria and it all went downhill; not sure of my exact location, although I think I'm near a lake held inside a castle. I'll find my way out eventually, but there is some seriously weird shit going on here."

Loki was used to understanding everything as soon as he heard it, but he could make no sense of what she said. Quickly he consigned her statement to memory and held out both hands. "I will find you, maiden, and win your freedom. Will I win a taste of your lips if I do so?"

"Get over yourself!" The red-headed beauty added a loud snort and disappeared.

What if he could find her and save her from certain death within a dungeon? Such a lovely flower should never have been held underground – the flames of her hair had to burn freely outside, among the stones and trees. And if he did find her, if he were able to impress her with his courage and daring – would she indeed allow him to press his lips to hers, taste her tongue, perhaps even…

But it was too late. The mere notion wrought his body to the highest peak, and his entire frame shuddered. Thick gouts of seed spurted into the water, and Loki threw his head back to shout within the torturous delight of his orgasm.

* * *

Frigga often told Loki it was important to preserve his innocence until he was certain of his abilities. "Magic comes more naturally to those who are pure of heart," she explained, "and virginity gives great depth and subtlety to the student enchanter."

He growled and complained he didn't want to talk of such things with his mother, but an uneasy feeling persisted: was he cheating by seeking out those beings of nature as comfort for his aching flesh? And he supposed he had to count the foolishness between him and Thor at night, meaningless as it was.

Because the truth was this: laying with the creatures held inside the trees and rocks made his powers stronger. He could feel his magic rear along with his sexuality, and even Frigga exclaimed at what he could already achieve in their lessons: control over elements, shape-shifting, summoning, all manners of illusions. Thus he continued to lay with the dryads and nymphs.

But the appearance of Natasha was something different. He could feel it. And he could hardly ask the queen about such a delicate subject.

Instead he sought out Thor. His brother was in the stables, but when Loki peered into the horse stall, he found Sif was there as well. The two were entwined, mouths working against each other's lips, hands thrust under shirts and inside breeches.

Loki cleared his throat loudly and they sprang apart. Sif gave him a look filled with bitterness as she swept out of the stables, calling loudly for a groom.

"Was that really necessary?" Thor slumped against one wall of the stall and covered his heart with one hand. A moment later he regained his usual good humor. "By the Norns, she is a spitfire! Not five minutes hence we were dueling, and the next thing you know she was in my arms. I am not quite certain how it happened."

"Good for you." Loki didn't care about Thor's dalliance. "Have you heard of a place called Latveria?"

"Latveria." Thor repeated it. "No, I have not. Gods, Sif's hair! Could you imagine it spread out over your chest? What wouldn't I give for such a sight?"

"Mother would flay you alive. Concentrate, you idiot. I have to discover where Latveria is."

"Perhaps Petro would help…?"

Loki made a sound of loud disgust. "That fat old namedropper! He does not know the location of his own balls, let alone an unknown realm. I would rather ask a bilgesnipe."

"Heimdall, in that case. He is Sif's brother, you know."

Pondering, Loki nodded. "Not bad – not bad at all. Except he does not like me since my little trick with the goat. Would you ask him?"

"But why do you want to go there in the first place?"

Could he trust his brother? If rescuing the maiden required a trip across the Bifrost, it would be good to have him along. "I have heard of a quest to save someone in grave trouble in that unknown land."

"Aha." Thor clapped one hand on Loki's shoulder. "And would this someone be a female?"

"Naturally your coarse mind would immediately rush to that conclusion!" When Thor raised his eyebrows Loki added in a haughty tone, "She is the loveliest woman I have ever seen."

Thor was already chuckling. "A quest, and a fair lady with it! I will help you, brother, as long as you promise not to interrupt me again in the middle of a tryst with Sif."


	2. The Castle on the Lake

**2 The Castle on the Lake**

* * *

Already in the middle of such a weird, screwed-up op, Natasha was hardly surprised by the images in the basin of water in her room. The youth with the dark hair, pale skin, and mischievous eyes appeared when she was about to strip off and wash, exhausted after the strangest day she ever had on a job. After Alexei's death she considered herself immune to another's admiration; she had been surprised to find how pleasant it still was to see the stars in the boy's eyes. He put the first smile on her lips since she began the operation in Latveria, but of course the unknown youth couldn't save her. Natasha had learned long ago she could rely on one person; her own quick wits and fierce determination were her main weapons – as well as a .38 Special. After several misfires she had ditched the Russian Nagant revolver and moved to the Smith and Wesson.

She finished washing her face and dried off quickly on an exquisitely stitched towel, gray with age and stiff with too many times through the wash, promising herself a real bath later in the chipped tub at the end of the hall. The lake outside the castle looked completely pure; from her window Natasha could see the stones and fallen trees in its depths. Across from where she stood was a tiny island with a knot of willows in its center. Her plan was to do her job and win enough freedom to go and swim in the depths of the lake and reach the tiny islet, unless she managed to finish the op first. In that case the entire castle and island could go to hell.

The clothes were hanging in the closet; she found a dress tied at the waist, kimono fashion. It was beautifully made with embroidered stars and wheeling moons, but the edges were frayed and permanently stained, just like the towel. In fact, everything inside the castle was beautiful and decayed, both at once, just like the shirt she wore. The owner's family must have fallen on hard times after centuries of amassing wealth. And his identity? She had no idea – apparently he was away on a trip and wouldn't return for some time.

It would have been very simple to walk out of her room, find an open widow, and escape. She could have done it in a heartbeat – except for one reason. One thing stood between her and freedom, and it seemed an impasse. Natasha closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. She would find the answer eventually, but at the moment it seemed she was stuck with a case she couldn't crack.

The door to her tiny chamber opened suddenly, and 13, the dark-skinned girl who slept in the room next to hers, stuck her head in. "New girl!" 13 shouted. "Get your ass dressed and come down. The guests are about to arrive."

"I'm ready." Natasha followed 13 down the hall to a rickety lift, one that worked with a series of ropes and pulleys. Together they had to haul the counterweights up to get the thing moving; once it was in motion Natasha watched for their destination. When it came in sight she nudged 13, and work in tandem they slowed the descent. It was a pain in the butt; she would have much preferred using the stairs – if there were any. Apparently the ancient lifts were the only way to move between floors.

On the ground Natasha and 13 joined a long line of other workers, all dressed in varying versions of the uniform. Breathtaking stitch-work bloomed on gowns and jackets in the shape of koi, irises, monkeys, and waves. The sight was incredible until you noticed the rips, stains, and holes in the ornate clothes.

The ground floor of the castle was a long arched hall, lined with mighty standards and ancient armor on either side. The standards were, like Natasha's dress, tattered and gray with smoke from years of candles and fires. Everything inside the long room was grand and oversized, except for one tiny stone statue of what looked like a robed figure in a little niche. The thing was worn down with age; its face had been obliterated by time. Natasha was about to ask what it represented, but it was already too late. The huge doors at the end of the room opened to reveal a small band of arrivals.

Instantly the workers broke into applause. One man produced a flute and started to play music; the tune sounded vaguely medieval. A woman in a kimono blazing with sunflowers started to juggle; another produced a pair of stilts and walked forward to greet the arrivals.

And what a very strange group they were. The first was a man with clothes befitting a prince; his high collar and gold cloak suited his condescending expression. At least, one eye looked cold and proud; the other was replaced by what looked like a camera lens or the sight of a high-powered rifle. It clicked and zoomed in as he looked around the hall. "Prince Zorba Fortunov," 13 muttered in Natasha's ear. "Do whatever he tells you to do – and quickly. He will not hesitate to call for the lash or scourge you himself with his Sight. Still, I've heard he's an easy lay and enjoys pleasuring his partners with his tongue."

Natasha filed his name away as the Prince strode through the hall, followed by a blue – creature. There was no other word for it. He had long, pointed ears, fangs, and the bottom half of his humanoid body was entirely mechanical. The thing rolled along on tracks like a tank. "Who the hell is that?" she asked.

"Otto Kronsteig – one of the chief scientists here in Latveria. Now he has arrived there will be a great deal of work for the Spiders in the dungeons."

About to ask for more information about the Spiders – what the fuck were they, and why were they in the castle? – Natasha was interrupted by the final arrival. She seemed normal enough and beautiful with it, a woman with long, black hair and regal nose. Her lush lips and dark eyes could have appeared on the cover of any fashion magazine. "And what about her?"

"Lucia von Bardas. A cyborg." 13 didn't give any other information about her, and the trio was close enough to make the crowd of workers stand back as the guests stalked through their midst. When they disappeared through another set of doors – the mirror image of the entrance into the castle - the workers dispersed like a crowd of ants. Each one seemed to know exactly where to go.

"What do we do now?" Natasha followed 13 closely. As soon as she got an idea of how the castle was physically and socially structured she could strike out on her own, discover how to complete the mission and secure her freedom.

"Rooms. Baths. Meals, and later the dance. I'm on bath detail – you might as well come with me and learn the ropes." As she spoke 13 moved to a side corridor leading to a maze of halls and doors. "The Spiders will tell us if we have to prepare a bath for any of the guests."

Curious, Natasha opened one door. The room within was a miniature version of a desert, with sand stretching for miles around an oasis in the shape of an ancient well. It was the first place she had seen inside the castle that seemed fresh and luxurious.

"It's an illusion," 13 murmured in her ear. "Each room has a different place or theme. There's the star bath, the river room, a tar beach…"

"That doesn't sound too appetizing."

"Look at the company. Lucia von Bardas needs special treatment during her sessions – she can't just dive into an ocean or wade into a stream. Her circuits and wires mustn't get wet."

"I suppose it's the same with the others."

"Yes. Dr. Kronsteig is obvious – we handle him just about the same as Lucia – and we even have to modify things for Prince Zorba."

Natasha nodded; she had already processed the information. It seemed the baths were the most important part of the castle, and a group of prisoners were used as workers. "When will they ask for our services?"

13 shrugged. "Could happen tonight before or after the dance. Who knows? But it won't be you, not until you sign the contract."

"Oh." Natasha would happily sign any contract, although she would also break it just as quickly. Once she obtained video of the place and smuggled it out they could whistle for her share of the work.

13 walked through a few more baths. She seemed to be checking supplies: soap, shampoo, various complicated-looking machines… Natasha assumed they were for the cyborgs. However, things got darker when they entered the next room: several slender instruments hung from heavy electrical cords looped back against the wall. One looked like a probe, another was a tiny drill; in the center trays of medical instruments flanked a hospital bed.

She kept her face calm, expressionless. "What's this all about?"

"What do you think? Kronsteig's into torture. Sometime's he's a top, sometimes a bottom. Just try not to catch his eye or you could be the next one in here."

God, what had she gotten herself into? For a moment she considered blasting out through the front doors, swimming the moat, and not looking back.

But there was a reason she couldn't do that, and it languished in the dark with the Spiders.

* * *

The afternoon was spent in the kitchens rolling pastry and bread dough. Because of the sheer volume of food needed for the castle it was backbreaking work; by the time they were finished 13 sank into a chair, and even the cook was rubbing the small of her back. Once the meals were rolled out on huge steam carts, Natasha slipped out and stole to the lift. Instead of returning to her floor for a rest, she looked around and took the device down to the cellar.

There a series of lanterns hung, ready for use. She lit one and, lifting it overhead, crept down to the one chamber: a huge room lined with fires burning in large hearths. The Spiders scuttled back and forth between a desk in the center and the fires. One Spider at the desk handed out slips of paper; once the creatures got an assignment they took it to the fire or to any number of vacuum tubes around the room where some of the messages were sucked up in twist-top containers.

They were strange-looking things with long legs and arms poking out from round centers. A face in the center showed two mournful eyes, glancing around the room and winking in the red light from the fires.

Natasha didn't know how long she stood there, watching the Spiders move back and forth. It was impossible to tell them apart; they all looked identical.

But she knew they weren't.

* * *

Back in her room Natasha undressed. Her hair was sticky with sweat, and she filled the bowl on her washstand from the jug to dunk her head under for a little relief. And there he was – the dark-haired youth she had seen before; when their eyes met on the surface of the water, his grew dark with lust as he took in her nudity and his jaw dropped. "Natasha," he said in a reverent tone.

"Listen, kid – it's been one hell of a day." Heedless of her naked breasts, she put her fists on her hips. "I need to wash off and clear my head – get my thoughts in order."

"Yes, yes," he said in a dazed tone. As pale as he was, she detected a blush creeping up his neck. "I am – it is just you are so beautiful. You are the loveliest lady I have ever seen."

"Thanks, but you really need to get the hell out of my water bowl now." A thought struck her, and she tilted her head sideways. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Loki. My name is Loki." The red in his skin darkened; he seemed to be having trouble breathing.

"Oh. Well – wait, you mean like the Norse God? I never heard of anyone with that name before. Huh. Cool. How about that."

His face split in a wide grin. "That is me. I am the Trickster named Loki, and soon I will become a god."

_Oh, for crying out loud._ She had no time to waste on megalomaniacs who believed they belonged in a pantheon somewhere lounging in togas and shit. "Okay, kid, whatever floats your boat. And if you excuse me, I'm going to wash now." Natasha dunked her sponge into the water, lifted the dripping object, and lathered bubbles over her chest and bare belly. The water was lukewarm, but it felt divine.

"Natasha!" He repeated her name in a strangled voice. "Gods, do you know what you are doing to me?"

"Well, you just have to put up with it if you won't get out of my damn washstand," she said. After the weird new arrivals, a torture bath chamber, and the Spiders downstairs, Natasha was exhausted and in no mood to deal with youngsters from another dimension crushing on her.

The veins on his neck bulged and 'Loki' threw his head back with a cry. She was pretty certain he had just climaxed, but where it actually happened – within another dimension or alternate universe – she had no idea.

_Hope you enjoyed the show - bye bye now._ Finished with her makeshift bath, Natasha opened her window and flung the soapy window out; if only she could be certain she was rid of Loki as well. Just as she was pulling a shirt over her head, 13 popped her head in the door again. "Visitor," the girl said, and stood to one side.

Lucia von Bardas strode in, wearing cashmere and pearls over exquisitely tailored pants; in the crook of her arm she carried a leather portfolio. "Your contract," the cyborg said by way of explanation. "Sign here." When no one moved, Lucia made a shooing motion to 13; the girl instantly disappeared. "Go on," she insisted.

Natasha shrugged. She doubted any paper offered by a cyborg in a strange castle could be strictly legal – and even if it were, what did she care? Once the op was finished and the Spiders taken care of, she would be out of there without a look back. Taking the fountain pen, she scrawled the name she was using: Natasha Petrovitch.

"Good." Lucia pointed at the signature; a faint rushing noise came from her hand as the ink was sucked off the page. The agent blinked as she watched. What the hell was the woman doing?

"Now, tell me your name once more?" The cyborg replaced the cap on the pen and put it inside the leather portfolio.

The agent shook her head. She had no clue what she was called, nor why she was there in the first place. Everything was gone. Her entire past was a blank.

The dark beauty with the pen looked satisfied. "Perfect. From now on you will answer to Five. When I say, '5, fill the baths,' you will do so. Is that understood?"

Standing in the tiny chamber, 5 nodded. She understood.

"What is your name?"

"5," the agent said. "My name is 5."


	3. Crime and Punishment

**3. Crime and Punishment**

* * *

Loki was given a week of extra lessons on the battlefield as well as a long essay to write on The Art of War. For once he didn't mind; if he was going to rescue Natasha he wanted to be ready for anything he might encounter. It all meant the end of his daily sojourns in the woods and by the river rocks; as a result his prick ached for release by the seventh day.

That same night he saw Natasha in his bath, bare-breasted as a Valkyrie on horseback, and he nearly emptied at the sight. Loki tried to hide his arousal as he told her his name, murmured how beautiful she was. But when she bent forward to wash in another dimension and her dark nipples brushed the water, he could nearly feel them under his hands – those quivering tips. At once he released, shooting voluminously into the water. The orgasm made his entire body shudder with a delight he had never before experienced, not even with the wood nymphs.

Once he was able to breathe, Loki opened his eyes. Cold disappointment washed through him as he saw she had disappeared from his sight. Ah, but what a beauty! "Latveria," he whispered to himself. He was more determined than ever to find the place and rescue her. And if he was able to talk her into allowing him a kiss at the same time… Perhaps he should redouble his studies on Persuasion, as well.

* * *

Was it sympathy or loyalty? Or was it simply a chance to get close to Sif? Thor joined the extra lessons and helped Loki with several new skills, but after a wasted afternoon with Loki trying to throw rocks and heavy mallets at an imaginary enemy, Sif seemed to lose patience. "Stop!" she shouted. "He'll never make a fighter like that. Loki has an entirely different style – he's graceful, not overly muscled – more of a dancer than a soldier."

"Ooh, a dancer." Thor went on tiptoes and pretended to pirouette around Loki; he followed it with some lumbering leaps. A broad grin stretched his good-natured face.

"You just say that because you want Sif to notice you so you can kiss her some more." Loki made a series of loud smacks with his lips; at once Thor roared, wrestled him onto the ground, and sat on his legs.

"Stop it, both of you!" Sif whacked Thor's head with the flat of one hand; obviously she was sure of him at that point. And perhaps his brother liked bossy, dangerous females just as much as he did? Loki thought of Natasha and grinned; he could just tell from the few times they spoke she had plenty of spirit. Plus there was a look in the red beauty's eyes he recognized – the glint of a wolf or a wild thing.

"Try it this way instead." Sif demonstrated a few moves that incorporated balance and momentum; Loki was instantly attracted to the intelligence behind them. "You could use this with daggers instead of swords – you have always bested us at knifeplay."

"'Tis true." Thor was always quick to praise when it was due.

Loki tried a simple turn. Quickly he figured the point to release his knife and gain the most speed from it; furthermore, he could see how the spins could intersect, taking an imaginary lumbering enemy down at its legs while he skewered the sternum with his blade.

His brother watched closely. "Well done! I could see how such a fighting style could be invaluable – you would cut your way through a battlefield."

"Aye, exactly what I was thinking." Sif and Thor smiled, drew closer, and he put one arm around her waist. Loki shook his head, flung down the knife, and stalked off to the palace for extra reading on the art of Persuasion.

* * *

That night he sought Thor's bed for the first time in years. His brother lay face up on the pillows, one massive arm flung across his eyes as he snored softly.

Temptation was too much – Loki conjured a handful of pebbles and dropped them, one by one, into Thor's mouth. He made it to five before his brother snored himself awake, started to cough and spit, babbled about losing his teeth in the night.

The perpetrator fell back on the bed, clutching his belly with laughter. "Did you spit out your fangs, dragon?" he howled, in between paroxysms.

Thor hawked the stones into his fist, flung them at Loki, and caught him by the nightshirt with one fist. "You Helspawn! I shall feed you stone porridge, by Odin's beard. Open up!"

Footsteps in the passage made them grow quiet instantly. Thor flung the blankets over Loki to hide him; the door opened and Frigga stood in the passage. "Get to sleep, son," she ordered. "I will not have you yawning over breakfast in the morrow."

"Very well," Thor mumbled. "'Twas a dream, nothing more."

When she had gone, Loki climbed under the sheets and pushed his cold feet against Thor's warm legs. "Were you able to talk to Heimdall this week?" He tried to keep the anxious tone out of his voice.

"Aye." The short answer made his scalp prickle with fear.

"And did you discover any news of the place named Latveria?"

"Aye," Thor replied. "No such place exists, not in any of the nine realms."

"Damnation!" Loki flung his head back on the pillows and stared up into the darkness.

Thor pushed his arm under Loki's neck, and they clung together in the darkness. "However, Heimdall says there will be such a land in the future. It does not exist _yet_, but it will appear on Midgard one day."

"Midgard." Loki ran his fingernails over Thor's chest, and his brother groaned with pleasure. "Have you ever traveled there?"

Thor fisted his other hand under his head. "Several times. Gods, the females are beautiful!"

Once he would have argued the Aesir were the loveliest beings in the branches of Yggdrasil, but Loki thought of Natasha and didn't argue. Instead, he curled further into Thor's chest and clasped one arm around his waist. "If I go, will you come with me?"

"Yes, indeed!" Thor chuckled with delight. "Would I let you have all the glory of such a quest? But of course it is impossible – we cannot go forth in time."

Loki lay quiet until Thor's breathing evened out once more, a grin of pure mischief on his lips. The next item on his reading list was traveling throughout the ages themselves.

* * *

"Travel in time?" Frigga's eyes were very intent in the firelight, never moving from Loki's face. "Such a thing is dark magic, and very dangerous. The traveler could arrive inside a stone wall and expire instantly, or even turn inside-out from the strange forces without and within."

"There is no way to accomplish it?"

She leaned forward and put one insistent hand on his knee. "There are always ways, but I will not teach them to you and put your life at risk – I know your curiosity has no bounds, Loki. You must forget all about it."

"How about messages from time – words that have not yet been spoken? What if I begin to hear such things?"

One log crackled and spit; they both jumped slightly at the sudden noise. "Have you done so?" she asked.

If he answered Yes, Frigga would realize his plan before it was done and put a stop to it. He simply had to find the lovely Natasha, even if his life was jeopardized when he did. "Of course not," he laughed. "I simply wondered if it were possible."

"I sometimes believe all things are possible." Idly she created an image, one glowing seed that split, grew tendrils and became a shoot, a sapling, a tree bearing fruit.

Loki reached forward to catch a silver pear as they tumbled from the branches in all colors. "Beautiful! Your magic is so artistic – I feel I shall never get the hang of such power."

"You are very strong already. It is within you, and no one can take it away. Remember that."

He tried and produced a weak imitation; his illusion was a mere flower that wilted in a moment. Still, he would remember.

* * *

Books, scrolls, old letters, ancient journals. Loki spent the next few months studying everything he could find on the subject of time and magic. If Natasha were in danger, he reasoned as he reread a treatise on clockworks and runes, it had not actually happened yet – the entire affair was still in the future. So he had time to prepare himself, find a way to propel into Latveria - a country that still did not exist - and rescue Natasha - a girl not yet born.

She couldn't be a mortal, he reasoned. Everyone knew they were dull, simple creatures, capable only of simple tasks such as worshiping the gods of Asgard. No, she had to be something else: fae, perhaps? Maybe she had Vanir blood? Or was she a goddess herself, lost within a backwards realm? In any case, it was his chosen quest to discover the truth and rescue her.

At the same time he trained with Thor and Sif each day. New students joined them: Volstagg, a large Viking with a huge belly, and Hogun, a mysterious soldier from Vaneheim. Thor frowned when Fandral showed up one morning – the fellow was well known for seducing the prettiest maidens in the realm, and he winked several times at Sif during the first day they all trained together. Loki and Thor teamed up to bash him in the final round, and Sif smothered a smile at the courtier's bedraggled, mud-covered appearance.

Fandral would need to think twice about dallying with her when the Odinson boys were on the jousting fields after that.

* * *

It became obvious from Odin's words Thor was destined for the throne, not his brother. Loki tried to show his father he had merit too; he joined the fiercest quests, volunteered for the bloodiest battles. Unfortunately it was all undone during one Odinsleep by a series of dreadful events and his own mischief.

Loki stopped consorting with stones and trees – there was no more time between training, learning magic, and reading about movement in time. He was still intent on finding the lovely Natasha, but he knew he had centuries to complete the task. To gain experience and prove himself to Odin, Loki went on a trip to Muspelheim, got involved with a series of skirmishes, and nearly lost his left hand. He awoke in the cave dwelling with a woman attending his wounds; in the firelight she was a shadowy beauty with wild curls and the smile of a wild thing.

Several months later Angrboda reappeared at the palace to claim she bore Loki's child. Stifling his dismay, Loki wed her in a secret ritual under the mountains of Ringsfjord. As they traded vows, he bade a private goodbye to Natasha and his dreams of rescue.

Those thoughts vanished when his children were born: a wolf cub, a large serpent, and a girl who was half bone. To Loki they were perfect, but when a soothsayer at court discovered their presence and told Odin Fenrir would one day kill him, the wolf was sent to an island – banished and alone. Jorgmunsdir was given the task of holding back the oceans, and the AllFather handed Hela the rule of Helheim. Angrboda left after that, heartbroken at the loss of her children. Once she was gone, Loki and Odin had a heated argument, their shouts so loud they shook the realm like thunder.

Loki found a barrel of mead, got thoroughly drunk, and excoriated everyone at the banquet that evening; when he was finished, he looked around the room and realized he had just lost every friend he ever had.

* * *

_Every friend?_ There was always one. That night, swaying from ale and too much mead, Loki crept to Thor's bed. It had been a century since the two shared a mattress, but he desperately needed a friendly voice and the feeling of warm skin against his own.

Slowly he opened the door to Thor's room. He took off his boots and was about to climb under the covers, when he stopped.

Thor was not alone in the huge bed. Next to him, eyes closed in slumber and snuggled on his broad chest, lay Sif. Her golden hair spread over the man's shoulders like a cloak, just as the god of Thunder had once imagined when he was a youth.

Yes, a golden cloak. And Loki knew he could steal it for daring to be where he wished to lie. _He_ wanted to be next to Thor. _He_ needed his brother's bed. The wine in his head made it all too easy – one twist of the hand, a muttered spell, and long snakes of yellow hair spilled from Loki's fist.

As soon as it was done he tried to put the curls back, but there was no spell for that.

* * *

Sif's hatred.

Thor's bewildered despair.

A trip to Nidavellir, several wagers and tricks, and the return to Asgard. He bore with him Sif's hair – now black like his own, not gold any longer.

And another souvenir: a line of golden stitches across his mouth, piercing his lips.

* * *

"I am perfectly happy Silvertongue no longer can spin his lies and tricks." It was spoken with a toss of long, black hair – Sif, filled with contempt and hatred for Loki.

"He will not be released until someone sheds a tear for his plight." That was Odin, his one eye filled with stern stricture when it looked down at his stricken son.

Frigga would have been the one to drop that tear, but she was out of Asgard, fighting a quest in Vaneheim. There was no one else – not even Thor sympathized. In the span of several months, Loki had lost everything. Wife, children, friends, the throne, brother, even his voice.

All gone.

He had been given a new suite of rooms when he came of age, complete with bookshelves, wardrobes, mirrors, magical equipment. Loki also had his own bath; no longer did he have to dash down the chilled corridor away from his brother's teasing laugh, afraid for his dignity and a disappearing towel. Sighing for that long-ago prank – what wouldn't he give now for Thor's chuckle and a cheerful argument? – Loki created a warm refuge in the tub, complete with scented steam and piles of bubbles.

He let his head tip back as several tears ran down his cheeks, but the gold wire holding his mouth shut wouldn't allow a single sound to pass his lips. _Who else would shed a tear for him? _He was destined to be silent forever, a trickster without words, a liar without tongue.

For hours Loki sat in the water, feeling it cool on his skin. He could have warmed it with magic, but he hadn't the will any longer. The steam disappeared, and the bubbles dissipated.

Slowly Loki became aware of a voice, as from far away. "Hey!" it said. "Hey!" There was the sound of someone snapping their fingers to get his attention. "You okay?"

Dully he opened his eyes. There in the bath was Natasha – the first time he had seen her in years. He sat up, cursing the stitches afresh. If only he could talk to her!

"Oh, my God," she continued. "What happened to your mouth? Holy shit! Look at you. It hurts, right? I can see it does. Crap, I wish I were there so I could help."

_Natasha._ After the long series of misfortunes he had gone through, perhaps it was enough just to see her. Loki felt a yearning look come over his face, and he reached out with his hand.

"There's nothing I can do…" Natasha blinked several times. With a shock of disbelief, Loki watched a tear course down her cheek.

The gold wire snicked through his lips, unlacing itself with a terrible heat. As it released his mouth, Loki screamed and flung his head back, shouting with pain. "Ahhh! It hurts!" he cried.

"I'm sorry! I didn't – what happened?" Natasha shook her head. "That thread just undid itself. It's beyond weird."

Carefully Loki wiped his mouth so he wouldn't disturb the vision in the water. At that moment the shimmering shade was all he had. "You saved me, that is what happened. You, Natasha."

A slight frown crossed her features. "But I'm not Natasha."

"What? Do not toy with me – not now! You are Natasha – you told me your name years ago."

"No." She shook her head decisively. "I work in the baths downstairs, and everyone calls me 5."


	4. 5

_NOTE - Just a quick reminder that '5' refers to Natasha Romanov in this chapter._

* * *

**4. 5**

* * *

13 appeared in 5's door before the dance. It was rumored the owner of the castle himself would make an appearance that very evening; as a result the entire floor of workers was ordered to attend. 13 wore a yellow dress; it made her skin look like polished mahogany. She handed 5 a blue wraparound gown and sighed as the redhead put it on. "Doesn't look too bad, I suppose."

5 hitched an uncaring shoulder. "Thanks." She followed 13 into the old lift; together they worked the ropes to bring them to the lower floors. "Natasha," 5 said suddenly. "Have you ever heard that name before?"

"Why do you ask? We're too busy to worry about names. Besides, you're 5. You always have been." 13 yanked a rope and added, "Damn, there's a hold up below."

"Someone mentioned it to me." 5 didn't want to talk about the young man in the water, the one with the look of desperation and the cruel gold stitches piercing his lips. She didn't know why his reflection made the tears fall down her cheeks when she saw it – maybe it was the melancholy expression in his eyes, green as an moss-laden tree trunk, or the feeling he was completely alone.

"Who? One of the other workers? The Spider Keeper? Don't tell me it was Kronsteig. I told you to stay away from him." 13 stabbed a long, skinny finger in 5's direction. "Didn't I tell you? Damn, you're such a pain in the ass."

"It wasn't any of them. Simmer down." 5 depended on 13 for survival tips, but she wasn't about to put up with orders from a girl years younger than her.

"The lift's moving again." 13 pulled the rope impatiently. "We have to stand on one side of the room during the evening. Don't make eye-contact with anyone, but if someone requests your hand don't hesitate."

"Got it." The lift stopped, and 5 followed 13 out into the huge ballroom. A host of glittering guests in bright gowns and tailored suits laughed and mingled under candlelight. Lucia von Bardos caught 5's eye and murmured something to the man she was talking to; without dropping her gaze the cyborg moved forward, snatched two glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, and brought them to where 5 and 13 stood with the rest of the workers.

"What is your name?" she asked.

For one moment 5 considered replying Natasha, wondering what the consequences would be if she tried it. To do so would risk the wrath of 13 and a possible night with Kronsteig; instead she curtsied as she had been taught. "5, Mistress von Bardas."

Lucia handed her and 13 the glasses of wine. "Drink," she said. "A little stimulant always makes humans so much more interesting."

5 shrugged and tossed the champagne down her throat. Lucia nodded and held out her arms. "Dance with me," the cyborg commanded.

Her Nu-skin was surprisingly soft, her fingers warm on 5's waist. Cautiously 5 put her arms around the cyborg and followed her onto the dance floor, picking up the steps with ease. It seemed dance was an important part of her former life, although she remembered nothing of it.

"You move well," Lucia commented. "Your style is smooth, expert. Not too showy - somewhat reserved, in fact."

5 closed her eyes to acknowledge the complement. "Thanks. It's easy with a good partner."

"Mm." Lucia tipped up her chin with one finger. "Would you mind coming to the bed of a cyborg? Believe it or not, even my kind requires satisfaction. Cyborg body parts tighten if I'm not pleasured every month, and it has been five weeks already since the last. I can promise you a thoroughly sensual experience – my fingers, tongue, and sex are fitted with vibrating plates and adjustable strokers."

Whatever she had expected, a proposition from the elegant Lucia was the last thing on her mind. In fact, it was a proposition in name only – 5, 13, and all the workers had to obey any order or whim from the guests. Luckily Lucia was beautiful and intelligent; it would be far more pleasant that being towed off by the machinated Kronsteig. Furthermore, 5 was curious to see what went into pleasuring a cyborg. "I'd like that," she replied. "Do you want 13 there as well?"

"Your call." Lucia pressed her closer with one hand on her waist, the other moved slowly under her hair so she could touch the tip of her tongue to 5's neck. A buzz coursed down her skin – 5 swore she felt it in her spine. The thought of it on her nipples, her clit, inside… it was intoxicating. She wanted to pull Lucia behind a pillar and have her there and then, but the woman sighed with regret.

"Von Doom has arrived – it just appeared on my commscreen. Damn. I'll have to meet you later, pretty." She thrust 5 to one side and walked off the dance floor, her hips twitching under the couture gown she wore.

With a mind full of such a delicious ass and Lucia's vibrating tongue, 5 moved back to the line of workers. 13 was on the floor twirling with a blue-chinned foreign diplomat; the man wore a diamond star and several medals on the sash across his chest. 13 smiled and cosied up to him, tipping her tiny nose against his unshaven chin. Probably she wouldn't be available to join 5 and Lucia later. That was fine with 5; she could have the cyborg's tongue all to herself. Just the thought made her squeeze her thighs closer and shiver with anticipation.

"Someone got the wind-up doll in a lather." The speaker was one of the boys; 5 had forgotten his name.

"You're going to have to remind me what you're called."

"Hundred," he retorted, "for the number of clients I've satisfied, although I haven't had Lucia in bed yet."

"There are that many visitors to the castle?" 5 was surprised.

"We are famous throughout the continent. Stripling princes cannot wait to struggle to our baths with their cocks bursting out of their pantaloons after they hear the stories about our services." Hundred sniggered, and 5 couldn't help joining his laughter. She could just picture it: lines of rich, pampered boys with bulging erections staggering out of the nursery to come to the castle and satisfy their lusty curiosity.

His eyes dripped down her body. "Once they hear about you we'll have more crowds than ever. You actually make that horrible dress look halfway decent."

"Just what I need," 5 snorted, "nights with foolish virgins who will burst with jizz in their knickers as soon as they get a sight of my tits."

Hundred laughed, a hearty Haha! that seemed real, not his practiced giggle from before. "Indeed. I had one boy – the son of a railway billionaire – spurt into his shorts as soon as he realized he could do what he wanted with me."

"I'm certain you got him stiff again." The conversation, randy as it was, amused 5. It was their job, after all: satisfying the customers in the baths or their beds, whatever took the visitors' fancy.

"Darling, I had him singing like a canary all night long." They both were overcome with humor, and Hundred managed to snag two drinks from a waiter's abandoned tray. "Champagne? We shouldn't, you know – we're only supposed to drink if one of the Posh fetch the bubbly for us."

"Lucia already gave me a glass. And besides, doing things that are forbidden is sort of delicious, isn't it?" 5 winked at him.

"Absolutely!" Hundred took a long swig and measured her again. "Maybe later you'll let me drape that fabric so your figure is displayed more prominently to do you justice."

"I'd like that, if we have time. Maybe tomorrow."

Hundred put his arm around her waist, kissed her cheek, and nodded. "Tomorrow it is, then…"

"What is happening tomorrow?" The voice was cold, and dark. It made 5 think of winter inside a place iced over for centuries – if there was such a thing as a cathedral on a frozen planet, the wind whistling through the arches would sound like that.

"Herr Kronsteig." Instantly Hundred dropped to a deep bow, and she took her cue to follow with a full curtsy. "We were just discussing some chores to be done tomorrow."

Kronsteig moved forward, the wheels and tracks under his upper torso making whirring noises. "And what of tonight?"

_Oh, Lord,_ 5 thought. The last thing she wanted was to be pulled away by Kronsteig; his penchant for torture was whispered by the workers in hidden corners – always with a frisson of fear. "Hundred and I are attending Mistress von Bardas," she said.

"Hmm." The hum seemed to come from behind his nose. Kronsteig looked them both over, wheeled back and turned smoothly before trundling off in search of other prey.

"Thank you thank you thank you," Hundred gabbled. "I owe you – you don't know how much…"

"It's my pleasure. That metal caterpillar shouldn't be left alone with anyone from the baths, not if they don't have a power drill and a beaker of powerful acid at their disposal." 5 folded her arms.

Hundred emitted a crack of surprised laughter. "I like you," he said. "I know you have an assignation after this party with Lucia, and I know it's a really big favor to ask, but if Kronsteig sees I'm alone at the end of the night he'll get me in that bath of his. He likes to start with the toenails," he added, "and work his way up."

* * *

Lucia's rooms were imposing with all of the stately grandeur of the castle but none of its worn down shabbiness. 5 and Hundred were ushered by a maid into an outer chamber where a fire burned within a large mantel. Small chairs with golden lyres worked into the backs stood around a table, as well as a long sofa on a silk carpet. Paintings hung on the walls, interspersed with mirrors that flung back the light of a myriad of candles and low-wicked lamps. Long velvet curtains the color of ripe plums hung straight down to the floors, inlaid with different woods in strange patterns; they framed the windows…but they weren't windows at all, 5 saw. Huge screens filled with flickering images were set inside the arched stone sills meant to hold glass. As they watched, forests filled those screens, followed by rolling oceans, roaring rivers, and desert wastelands.

"This way." The maid, pert in a beautifully tailored uniform, opened a door on the right side of the room. They followed her into another room, completely different from the first.

5 felt her jaw drop open as her gaze swiveled around the place. Tubes filled with bubbling liquids of all colors ran from ceiling to floor. A bank of machines with dials and levers ran under the rich carpets under their feet.

"You brought a friend after all." Lucia von Bardos reclined in the center of the chamber, but it was no bed – rather a marble slab, pinioned to the floor with thousands of wires interconnected in a complicated braid. She patted the stone beside her and raised one eyebrow.

"Woah." Hundred's tone was filled with reverence as he approached her like a sleepwalker; 5 was nearly dazzled herself by the cyborg.

Lucia wore a soft gown of material so sheer it revealed her nakedness – the dark circles on her generous breasts, a taut belly, the slender muscles of her thighs. But there was more: panels of glass in her chest where, 5 saw as she came closer, clockworks ticked back and forth inside. What did they do? she wondered. Keep Lucia's heart going, or her blood pumping?

Instead of putting her off such thoughts were exciting, and she nearly jumped when Hundred blurted, "What do you want, then? Can you…"

"You want to know if I can feel anything." Lucia slid one leg up and parted her thighs; between them lay another smaller glass panel with sensors set into it. "My creators gave me the ability to process pleasure, much as you do, 5." She crooked one finger. "Would you like to touch it?"

Buzzing with curiosity and the beginnings of arousal, 5 came forward. Behind her, Hundred stumbled; apparently his eagerness had erased his usual grace. Together they slipped the gown up Lucia's legs; her head tilted back and a long sigh escaped from her throat.

Hundred instantly palmed the little plate at her cleft, but 5 caught his hand. "Not like that," she said. "Softer." Carefully she touched the plate, edging the tiny pleasure panel and flicked it with her fingertips.

"Yes, that's it," Lucia breathed.

"Can I kiss you?" Hundred's eyes were filled with stars, 5 noticed with amusement.

Lucia shrugged. "If you wish. There are no sensors on my lips, but feel free to play."

Hundred made a noise in his throat and crawled over her to press his hand over her breast, his lips to hers. With a giggle, 5 returned to her work of flicking the sensor plate. "Would this be more pleasurable with oil?" she asked suddenly. "A bit of lubrication works wonders."

"Mmm." Lucia pushed Hundred aside and sat up. "In the drawer, just there."

5 nodded and found a tiny vial inside the slot. Carefully she dribbled a trickle over the sensors between Lucia's legs. It seemed to please the cyborg; her hips canted up and her thighs started to tremble. With one imperious gesture she pushed the boy aside and beckoned again to 5. "Come here," Lucia demanded.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Hundred squat down on the floor to watch as 5 crawled up over the slab of marble to kiss Lucia. The cyborg's lips parted and 5 felt her tongue – marveled as it began to vibrate in her mouth, smoothing over her lips, jaw, and throat. "You're both so beautiful," Hundred said. "Please, let me see more kisses…"

"Take off your gown," Lucia added. 5 sat up, pulled her dress off with one sure movement. Underneath she wore nothing more than a simple white bra and pants; Lucia raised one finger and a blade snicked out from under her nail; quickly she sliced the bands of material around her hips and chest. With a forbidden swish the garments fell off and left 5 completely naked.

The blade in Lucia's finger disappeared, and she placed the pad of the tip against 5's collarbone. It began to tremble, as gently and firmly as her tongue, and slid down to curl around a nipple, curl over 5's ribs, down her belly to dip into her navel, between her thighs.

The touch was naughty, gentle, and delicious, all at once. 5 couldn't help wriggling closer and kissing Lucia again. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Hundred sink back on the marble floor, his hand thrusting into the top of his trousers.

As Lucia worked her human flesh, 5 stroked the pleasure chip between the cyborg's thighs. The feeling in 5's sex throbbed, stronger and deeper. Lucia demanded in a voice thick with desire (How did her creators manage that? Some sort of system control made to replicate human response?) that 5 lift her leg, thrust into her, and the girl complied, feeling the cyborg's oiled pleasure spot lift, swell into a bump vibrating against her own.

Hundred withdrew his hand from his pants, shuddering, and stood so hastily he staggered. Quickly the boy moved behind 5, lowered his trousers, and thrust into her slit from behind so they both could move over Lucia. The cyborg arched back, cried out, and 5 felt her release begin with the vibrations of the little bump and Hundred's erect flesh inside.

The three of them stuttered, cried out in orgasm. Lucia swept back her gleaming hair, sat up, and found a linen towel; with hasty movements she wiped herself off. "You may leave now," she said.

5 nodded, climbed off the marble slab, and picked up her dress. She drew it on with one fluid motion and headed to the outer rooms where the changing landscapes inside the 'windows' still moved on the walls. Hundred stopped her and whispered, "Wait here. I'm going to see if I can beg a tip from her."

"Very well." 5 stood in the middle of the room, and when the connecting door closed behind them the landscape screens changed suddenly – all showing the black-haired youth she had last seen in her basin.

"Natasha," he said in a low, intense voice. "You are all I have left. I will be there soon – will you wait for me?"

"My name is not Natasha. I am known as 5."

"No," he insisted. "You are my Natasha. Someone has stolen your memories and replaced them with nonsense. I think it is almost time for me to come and find you – I hope so," he added in a sad voice. "I have nothing left for me here." His sorrow seemed to change to mischief, and his eyes darkened. "You are naked under your dress - I can see the tips of your breasts. Gods! I can barely wait to see you in the flesh."

A word struggled to her lips. "Loki," she said at last.

Loki's lips parted in a blinding smile. "Yes. Natasha. Soon we will…"

"Look at this!" Hundred burst back into the room, and Loki's images disappeared instantly. "A bath for each of us, as well as new clothes. And money! We were a success, 5 – we should always work together."

She shook her head. "I'm not 5. My name is Natasha – Natasha Romanov."

Hundred's jaw dropped before he lunged forward and covered her mouth with his palm. "Shut up, for Chrissakes! Do you want to get sent to Kronsteig's bath?"


	5. Memory and Time

5. Memory and Time

* * *

The purity Frigga seemed to hold so highly flitted farther from Loki's grasp, tenuous as it was. After Sif's hair was restored and the golden thread snipped from his lips, he tried to win back his past by fleeing to the forests in search of the trees and rocks he used to consort with. However the nymphs and dryads were gone; no longer could he see the spirits within stone and wood to release them for moments of passion. Loki tried to tamp his frustration and calm his inner churning enough to find a wild partner or at least a tiny part of his lost innocence.

But he could not.

And thus he returned to the palace, filled with something pulsing and hot in his chest and no way to purge himself of it. When he walked into the marble halls, Loki thought he would suffocate from the closed-in feeling, as though he were an animal forced to live in a cage. It grew during the daylight hours; by the time he had to attend Frigga and Odin at dinner Loki could barely swallow his spit, let alone food. Gloomily he pushed larks' tongues around his plate, counting to himself to make it through the interminable hours before he could go to his chambers and try, once more, to chase elusive sleep.

Just as he thought he would go mad and flip the entire table along with the food on it to the ground, Loki felt a hand slide up his thigh. Carefully he kept his face impartial, but under the cloth he captured Freya's hand in his fingers.

* * *

That night the goddess writhed underneath Loki, her long hair wound around his neck. Inflamed by her beauty, Loki licked between her breasts down to the delicious cleft hidden in her folds. And when she was wet and slick, he eased his length inside to ride her to an ecstatic finish with her shouting for joy in his arms. The release cleared the noise in his head, and for the first time he was able to lie back on the pillow and breathe. It lasted for a short time, but when he reached for Freya for another round of loveplay she avoided his touch. "That is enough," the goddess declared as she rose from the bed and thrust her arms into her sleeves. "I wanted to see if you were as mischievous in the sheets as you are in the palace. You have answered my question, and now we are done."

Loki reclined on one arm and watched as she left his rooms without another look, and his eyes narrowed with the sudden realization – a release of his lust made the bad feelings go away, if only for a few moments. Once he found another partner he could seek relaxation: that place where his mind stopped planning and whirling and spiraling out of control.

* * *

Hodor was next; Loki spent two weeks sweet-talking the boy until he came to his bed, bent double to receive penetration. It was over too fast and Loki was left with the lad following him everywhere he went, stars in his eyes. When he had to shout at Hodor to leave him alone and find someone else to adore, the voices returned worse than ever.

It led to an endless parade of lovers, sometimes in groups. And after several Odinsleeps Loki found lovemaking no longer quieted the swirl in his mind. The quiet place was gone. Clutching his head with both hands, Loki walked to Thor's room in a desperate search for refuge. The huge door was locked against his touch, and he stood outside for a long time listening to the whispers and stifled cries of love within. Finally, he traced his footsteps back to his own room: alone, as he now always was.

* * *

Loki's magic was changing. He sensed an inexorable movement through the threads and strands of enchantment in his body; power coursed through his fingers, even his hair. Frigga herself exclaimed at a blast he sent at the library wall; two hours were necessary to repair the took it in with her usual savoir-faire, but Loki caught a puzzled line between her brows when she thought he wasn't looking. Even Frigga, it seemed, didn't know what was happening to him.

Because the new phase was dark – he could feel it. No longer could he create the castles and forests spun with light he and his mother used to amuse themselves with by the fire; no, his spells were forces of destruction, even when he didn't want them to be.

_Is it so bad?_ he thought one night in his bed, staring up into the shadows. _Dark magic is old magic – what is wrong with that? Perhaps there is a way to use it to my advantage._

Beside him two of his current bedmates snored, worn out from their recent exertions; Loki flicked one finger and they were spirited away to the halls of the castle. There the servants would find them naked in the morning. He grinned as he pictured the resulting confusion and embarrassment.

Sleep evaded him, and he tossed restlessly in the ornate bed. Finally, with a grunt of rage, Loki rose and dressed quickly, intending to ride to the forest and look for something pure. He would turn things around, he determined, and discover the light within once more – the darkness bolting through his frame was too seductive and could lead to eventual evil and downfall. He knew it as clearly as he knew his own name.

As he closed his door a pair of voices made him look up. Theoric, a young knight, approached with a girl on his arm; they stared into each other's eyes with the blind devotion of new lovers. Loki recognized her as the beauty named Sigyn, an Aesir newly-arrived at court.

The pair passed Loki; Theoric gave him a wary nod and Sigyn blushed. The color against her golden hair made her look like a rose blown by gentle rains. Loki stared, struck by the girl's innocence and patent fidelity to Theoric – that ridiculous clod! Forgetting his vow to rediscover his own purity and light, Loki knew he _had_ to have her. If he couldn't become light himself, perhaps it could shine through him if he swallowed such a glowing, glorious creature. Yes, Sigyn's purity, once he absorbed it, would beam through his eyes and fingernails.

The idea was pure madness, but Loki's self-control was gone. The thought of sinking himself into such a soft beauty was too delicious.

* * *

After a month of tender innuendoes and ignored flirtations, he realized the only way to win Sigyn to his bed was with his new dark magic. A series of tricks put Theoric in a dungeon cell, and Loki was free to have the maiden. He stood in his room, disguised as the knight. Perhaps it would have been as well to glimpse in the mirror and check all was well, but for some reason he didn't wish to see his assumed reflection. Instead he stole to the beauty's room, knocked softly, and was admitted.

The tumble was just as he expected – sharply ecstatic. When she lay weeping in his arms, her bright face clouded with what she had done, the entire affair seemed to shrink along with his prick; Loki almost wished he had never started the prank.

And when some bumbling fool of a servant brought a message from Theoric's cell, and when Sigyn turned to Loki with confusion and fear in her eyes, and when he revealed himself to her, and when she crumpled to the floor with agonized sobs racking her body, he would have given anything to be able to turn back the hands of time.

But all his research into time magic had yielded nothing, and redemption was beyond even his powers.

* * *

The story sped around the castle, as scandals have the habit of doing. Loki was dragged to the throne room and Odin's displeasure; his father ranted for nearly an hour about honor and discipline. Loki stood throughout preserving a mien of cold boredom; it was only when Frigga entered, her voice hoarse with weeping, that the prince nearly broke down.

"Even your mother cannot stand your tricks and stratagems!" Odin flung a hand in the direction of his wife's tear-stained face.

"Enough!" Loki shouted. "You have said your piece – I will leave you both to your self-righteous anger!"

He turned and strode from the palace. A hot little coal burned in his chest and squeezed his heart; Loki felt the sting of salt on his cheeks.

On the Bifrost he stood and knew himself for truly lost. The palace was no longer a refuge; no, it stood as an accusing finger, pointing to the realms of space and beyond. _Go,_ the golden spires seemed to demand, _and do not return until you can heal this harm._

"Brother!" The shout came from far-off. Loki shielded his eyes and saw Thor riding towards him, standing in the stirrups.

When he drew up, Loki sneered. "Why do you seek me out? Have you not heard…"

"It is Sif," Thor interrupted. "She is missing. I discovered her gone from her rooms and found nothing but this."

A scrap of parchment was thrust into Loki's hands. Written on it was one word: _Latveria._

Loki clutched it, another tear dimming his vision. "This is the place I mentioned in my youth. Do you remember? Heimdall told us it did not yet exist."

"Let us pray it exists now. Will you come with me on this quest?"

The accusations, the tears, the darkness – Loki could leave it all and ride with Thor towards adventure and Natasha. He had almost forgotten her, that youthful love of his. "I suppose," he grumbled, inwardly exulting.

* * *

They arrived in darkness, in stone. Small scratching sounds surrounded them, but when Loki struck a light and held it overhead, he and Thor stood in a deserted room.

Deserted? Not quite. A long table at the far end lay heaped with steaming plates of food – roasts, steaks, capons, and stews. Bowls held peas in butter and mushrooms in golden sauce. Potatoes, fried and peppered, were displayed on long trays. Whole fish gilded with cucumber scales glistened next to just-baked bread.

"What a feast!" Thor grinned and marched forward. "Just what was wanted after a long day of battle and searching for Lady Sif."

"Thinking of your stomach so soon, Thor?" Loki snorted and turned away. "Better we get our bearing first before we fill our bellies."

"'Twill only take a few moments. I brought gold in plenty to pay the thane for our keep." Thor drew up a stool, sat in it, and heaped a trencher with slabs of meat. Seizing a fork, he started to shovel in the food.

"I refuse to wait for a glutton. Time to begin our quest," Loki declared. The sound of loud slurps and chewing was the only response.

Loki turned his back and found a doorway. It led to a narrow path that ended at a dark shaft – obviously it was the only way to go up. He supposed there was a mechanism inside, but he was too impatient to see how it worked. Natasha's face danced in his memory like a bright standard on a pole, waving in the wind.

One turn of his wrist brought him above the cellars where he and Thor had arrived to the next floor. Two sets of doors framed the huge space, and ancient weapons hung on the walls. To Prince Loki's mind, the place seemed entirely ordinary, even mundane – everything in it was tattered and old. The only thing that drew his attention was the tiny robed figure worked in stone in one side of the hall. He strode over to it, knelt, and touched the thing with careful fingers. Yes, there was a spirit inside, but the statue was its prison, not a refuge. It would take careful magic to release the being shivering inside, and that sort of enchantment had deserted him.

He didn't have time to worry over the statue. First he wanted to find Natasha and inform her of his arrival; next he would come up with a plan for discovering Sif's whereabouts; if he and Thor rescued the much-beloved warrior maiden and returned her to Asgard it would do much to restore Loki's lost reputation.

And throughout the quest, of course, he would win Natasha to his bed and pleasure her thoroughly. Just the thought of having her in his arms at last, of removing her clothes slowly, of kissing those lush lips and tasting her tongue, of holding the generous breasts…ah! It nearly made him release in his breeches. Loki grinned at his own arousal; he could hardly wait to have her seated on his throbbing, ticklish prick.

So when he heard her voice followed by a burst of laughter, Loki's smile widened. He strode forward just in time to see a strange cage sink down the shaft he had seen below, pass the floor where he stood, and go to the cellars he had just left. Natasha was inside the iron cube, wearing a threadbare robe tied tightly around her body. One white arm was propped against the metal scrolls on the far wall; a male stood close by, smiling at her.

Loki felt his mouth drop open with shock. In his mind only time and the branches of Yggdrasil kept them apart. He flicked his fingers and returned to the dark floor below where, presumably, Thor still sat at the table stuffing food into his face. When the cage descended and Natasha emerged followed by the male (a thin blond individual whom Loki hated on sight) he planted himself in front of them.

The male looked at Loki up and down. "Another rich boy, ready to experience his first bout of fornication?"

"Hardly," Loki drawled. With the back of his hand he pushed the fellow to one side before he pulled a very surprised Natasha close and bit her neck with his sharp teeth. "At last," he breathed.


	6. Time and Memory

**6. Time and Memory**

* * *

Natasha pulled away from the stranger's embrace. "Who the hell do you think you are?" Hundred struck a match, and by the small light she was able to see the black hair, the mocking smile, the pale column of his neck. "Loki?" she added. "Is it really you or am I starting to lose touch with reality."

"Perhaps a touch of both." Loki spread his arms and dimpled at her.

Despite his appearances in her sink, she still doubted he truly was a demigod. Still, Natasha had been through sex with a cyborg and had her name stolen; by that point she was ready to accept anything. "Why are you here of all godforsaken places?"

"Godforsaken no longer, Natasha. I have just arrived with my brother Thor on a quest to save his lady-love, the Warrior Sif. Have you seen her?"

"Woah." Hundred held up both palms. "This is like some serious medieval stuff. You're on a quest? With your brother? Are you both going to want a bath and attendants?"

Loki's brow puckered as he regarded the boy. "Bath? Attendants? I suppose so, but it is of no importance. First I want to find the lady, and next Natasha and I will become acquainted in the flesh – at last."

"How about that!" Hundred inserted his elbow between two of Natasha's ribs. "You're famous already. Well-deserved, I might add – I've never seen a better lover than you are."

Natasha couldn't help a snort of amusement as Loki's nostrils extended with fury. "You are her lover?" he demanded of the boy.

"We just work together. Although you can watch me bed her, if that's your kink - believe me, we can work it out. Really I'm more of a cock guy, but …" Hundred stopped talking as Loki's hand snapped out around his throat.

"Stop it at once!" Natasha punched Loki's arm, and reluctantly he released the kid. "Hundred, I need to talk to him alone for a bit. Why don't you go and take your bath and I'll join you as soon as I can."

Her amusement fled as Loki's eyes widened and he back her against the wall. "You are taking a bath with him?" he demanded. "I refuse! You cannot – now I am here you will be mine, and we shall…"

"Hey!" Natasha pointed her finger at his face, slicking the air with little jabs as she spoke. "Do not pull that jealousy crap on me. We hardly know each other, first of all, and no one tells me what to do. No one. Unless they've bought me, of course," she added with a burst of honesty.

"Bought you…" Loki's brows drew together again, and he looked around. "Is this a brothel?"

"Yeah, sort of." Natasha realized she really had no word to describe the castle. "It's sort of a bathhouse, but anything goes in here, pretty much. I guess I never really thought about it much before." She favored him with an up-and-down glance. "You going to tell me you're a virgin yourself?"

"What? Well, I … perhaps…" His voice tailed off.

She snorted. "Thought not. Don't presume to hand out rules you don't follow, jackass."

In one movement Loki went on one knee, groped for her hand, and held it to his cheek. "I beg your forgiveness. It is simple to watch someone from far away, is it not? and dream of being beside them, but reality raises unforeseen problems. Concepts previously unconsidered. You were a bright possibility to me, Natasha, for centuries. And now you stand before me, and I am acting like a fool – struck down, perhaps, by your beauty."

She laughed, slapped his cheek lightly, and withdrew her hand. "C'mon, stand up. We'll be okay. How did you get into my water jug, by the way?"

He sprang to his feet, and a mischievous gleam entered his eyes. "I thought you were the one who got into my river when I went swimming."

With a slight shock Natasha realized he was incredibly handsome, so good-looking he might truly be named a god. "You said you arrived here with your brother. Where is he?"

The mischief turned to disdain. "Believe it or not, as soon as we arrived he could not resist a table filled with delicacies. He is filling his stomach as we…"

Natasha didn't wait to hear the rest. A shout of despair tore out of her throat, and she bolted to the dark corridor on the left. Her old robe flapped around her legs as she ran, sobs threatening to drown her. _Not another one!_

She stopped at the entrance of the room. The table stood there, filled – as it always was – with delicious meats, bread, bowls of stew and mounds of potatoes. One chair was occupied, just as she knew it would be, by a dark, squat shape. "God damn it!" she shouted. "Fuck me!"

Loki arrived and wrapped an arm around her waist to stop his progress; they both were propelled forward by his impetus. "What has happened?" He pointed to the thing in the chair.

"It's the food. It turns anyone who eats it into one of the Spiders."

Shaking his head, Loki started to chant something under his breath. "No," he said. "Not Thor – no no no no no." A wild look came into his eyes, and he raised his arms, flinging bolts of green light at the black shape in the chair. "Come back! You fool - Brother!"

Natasha forgot her astonishment at the sight of electricity flowing from his hands in the face of Loki's sadness, and she wrapped her arms around him from behind. "Sucks, right? I think it happened to someone I knew as well, but I've forgotten."

He turned, mouth agape with astonishment. "Forgotten?"

"Yes. Remember how you helped me remember my name? I've forgotten everything – except you. I remembered you, and you gave me back my name." She released him and cautiously slid to the side wall. "We have to let your brother join the other Spiders, or he will die. He'll eat until he explodes."

They both regarded the black shape in the chair. Two spindly legs pushed food into a red hole of a mouth; already its belly was bulging.

"How will I get him back? My magic will not work on him – what sorcery is this?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry." Natasha ran her fingers over the wall until she found the handle she was looking for; quickly she turned it and a small trapdoor opened. The spider that once had been Thor shot out of its seat, clicked across the floor, and disappeared through the dark hole to where the other spinners lived.

"No." Loki shook his head. "I must – things are getting worse, not better. We came to rescue the Lady Sif and find you, and instead Thor is gone. In faith, everything I touch seems to wither under my hands."

"Don't despair just yet." Natasha felt something like sympathy pour through her, searing her veins with its acid. "Look, you need to get a job here. Okay? You have to keep bugging them until they offer you a job. They'll make you sign a contract, but you have to remember your name or you'll be lost too. Once you are hired, we can work together to free your brother and my – whoever it was I lost. I don't remember, but I'm going to get them back anyway."

"You lost someone as well?" Loki tilted his chin and looked down at her. "A lover, perhaps?"

"I have no idea. It could be Kronsteig's second cousin for all I know."

"Kronsteig – who is that?" The question was pointed, sharp and intense.

"One of the scientists who lives here. He enjoys torture, both giving and receiving it. When you get a job in the castle, stay away from him."

A grim smile spread over his features. "I would truly enjoy watching his pathetic efforts to subdue me. Very well, I shall get this job, rescue Thor, and aid you in your own quest."

Natasha felt a ray of something she had nearly forsaken. Just perhaps she could call it hope. "Really? You'll help me?"

"Naturally."

She thought quickly. "Would you like to see the spiders? They run the baths and generate energy for the castle."

The smile grew grimmer. "If I must."

"Let's have a look at what we're up against." Natasha's threadbare slippers slapped against the old flagstones underfoot in the cellars, and she tugged her robe closer, wondering how Hundred was making out in the bath. "It's quite disturbing," she warned.

* * *

Castle von Doom had once been a medieval fortress heated by woodsmoke; its fountains and baths were powered by run-off from the nearby lake. According to Thirteen, Doom wanted more power to source weapons and a revolution he was funding, but the loss of several skirmishes used up his fortune. As a result the castle became a shabby bathhouse that truly was, as Loki surmised, a brothel. All income apparently went into the estate, for none of the workers ever received wages.

When Loki and Natasha entered the room where the spiders spun and worked, the scuttling black shapes were clustered in a corner of the room, crawling over each other in order to get to a cake of sugar swinging from the ceiling. Their motions started a long series of gears to grind against each other, thus sending heat to the baths and fuel to the castle. As well, the spinners fetched and spun, a never-ending source of power. The arachnids were far larger than those found in the forests beyond the lake; the legs were nearly as thick as a man's wrist. Mandibles clicked as the creatures jostled for the best position and bumped mindlessly against each other.

The sight always filled Natasha with despair. She knew one of the beasts had another name and was not a spider at all; once he had been a friend and worked at her side. However, she could no longer remember who he was. And this stranger, newly arrived – this tall being called Loki was in the same position – his brother had also become one of the skittering pile. They stood in silence, side by side, watching the pile squirm. After several minutes, Loki made a sound of disgust and strode back to the elevator.

Natasha thought of the bath she and Hundred were supposed to share. It was in the Cityscape room, designed to look as though the bathers were on the top of a huge building under the stars. There would be soft soap, and Hundred had stolen a bottle of wine. He also hinted at scandalous gossip and promised to give her a foot massage.

With a soft Humph she abandoned those plans. "Let's get you that job," she said.


	7. The Price

**7. The Price**

* * *

"She's mine." The one Natasha had introduced as Hundred entered Loki's chamber, looked around, sniffed, and spoke without preamble. "I already fucked her, so there's that."

Jealousy made his vision streak with blood and sparks for a moment, but Loki had learned several things after the affair with Sigyn and Theoric. It was of the utmost importance to hold his tongue and wait for an opportunity to deliver a masterstroke to any opponent with merciless steel. Thus he merely returned to staring out the window as though it were the most fascinating sight in the Realms. "I know not of whom you speak."

A flurry behind him, an impetuous hand on his shoulder, and he was confronted by a pair of angry, desperate eyes. "5. I'm talking about 5. She's mine – we were supposed to have a bath together with wine and gossip until you came and ruined the whole thing."

Loki allowed a slow smile to creep across his mouth. "I am merely here to enact a rescue. She told me to get a job first, and here I stand."

Dark brown eyes painted him with contempt. "You? Get a job here? I doubt you know the first thing of pleasure."

His desperation made Loki laugh, even as he tamped the fury prickling in his nostrils and spinning webs around his heart. "Dear boy," he purred, "I know more of pleasure than you ever will in your entire short lifetime. Over the course of several hundred lovers I've invented sex acts you can't even begin to imagine."

"5 is mine," Hundred repeated.

The boy was becoming incredibly tedious. "I highly doubt the lady would appreciate being claimed as belonging to anyone – neither you nor me. If I were you I would return to your sad excuse for a bedchamber this instant." He smiled again with enough teeth to show the lad he veiled the threat with soft words.

Hundred, while flighty and silly, seemed to understand. "Okay, but 5 is mine, and you can't change it. We already shared a client, and my dick has been inside her – has yours? If I were you, I'd leave the castle and find a rundown whorehouse willing to accept used-up slags." He whirled on one toe, pulled the door open violently, and left.

Goaded beyond endurance, Loki felt his rage encompass the last of his calm. That very day he had seen Thor changed into something hideous, and he lost the last threads of his temper. Without knowing what he did, he followed the boy into the hall and shouted, "Her name isn't 5! She is Natasha!" A shocked hush fell over the floor. Several heads appeared around the old, rotting doors lining the hallway and quickly disappeared when they caught Loki's furious expression. At the end of the passage Hundred froze, and his hands curled into claws.

"Hundred." The speaker appeared from a hidden flight of steps; Loki saw she was a beauty with long, dark hair glistening under the lanterns swaying overhead. "Go to your room, and stay there."

Loki noted the woman spoke with calm authority as if she were well-used to being obeyed. Several of the listeners instantly retreated into their rooms. Hundred, however, swaggered towards the speaker. "Very well, mother," he sniggered. It was exactly the sort of thing Loki himself would have tried in a similar situation.

The woman raised one eyebrow. "I believe the last time I saw you it was on the floor of my room with your hand in your pants. Speak to me with disrespect again and you'll be sent to Kronsteig's bath as a bottom. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes – yes!" The panic in Hundred's voice was obvious. He scuttled towards the elevator like a rabbit on the run from a ravenous wolf.

The woman watched him descend. Smoothly she moved to Loki's chamber and entered. "Did you hear all of that?"

Loki didn't want to start unnecessary trouble just yet. Besides, he wanted to get the job so he could rescue Thor. "Yes," he murmured.

"Is your quarrel with him finished?"

"Yes." He was in no mood to give obeisance, but Loki wanted to rescue Thor, take Natasha, and get the Hel out of the forlorn castle – the entire place was a shit heap as far as he was concerned.

"Very well." The female produced a clipboard. "You will address me as Mistress von Bardas. And you will sign here on the line to give us power over your affairs during the length of your employment."

Loki nodded, took the pen, and scribbled on the line. Von Bardas took the pen, held it over the page, and proceeded to vacuum up the ink from his signature. "Henceforth you shall be known as …"

He stopped listening. The scrawl was one of his many names, and apparently she thought she had stolen it; probably she had done the same to the frightened Hundred and Natasha as well. However, Loki was Loki and always would be, no matter what happened; never would he be a mere number in the castle's accounts.

Von Bardas left, and Loki smiled with sudden delight. He had passed the first few tests of securing employment and keeping his name; it was time for his reward. He intended to summon a beautiful illusion for Natasha to win her into the pillows - perhaps a corded string of fire opals, or a wreath of sweet-smelling mignonettes. Once he had bedded her, he could secure Thor and return to Asgard, his desires for the fire-haired maiden satisfied. It would leave him purposeless, but Loki was certain he could find something new to occupy his interests.

He flicked his fingers to weave a new piece of trickery; the realization struck him like ice in his veins. It was as though he had just had a limb cut off, as though the bleeding stump of his arm poured gouts of blood over his chambers. Lucia had not stolen his name, no. Instead, signing the contract of work had cost Loki his magic.

* * *

Natasha's room was on the floor below. It was easy to climb out of the window, shin down the ivy, and swing himself through her window into her chamber where she lay in bed reading a book and swinging a tattered slipper from one toe. Loki felt himself harden as soon as he saw her on the bed wearing a robe that had ridden up to reveal her smooth thighs and round behind – simply perfect for his hands, he thought. He had lost everything else; Loki promised himself he would not lose this.

He planned to join her among the pillows, but as soon as he approached she rolled to the floor on the other side, putting the bed between them in one fluid move. "I am not here to threaten you." Loki approached slowly, thinking he would have her pinned to the mattress in minutes; he simply couldn't wait any longer.

"Oh, it's you." Natasha got off the floor, brushed dust off her hands, and got back on the bed. "Did you get the job?"

"Indeed. I came to offer my thanks."

He edged closer on the stone flags, but she waved him away. "You're welcome, and by the way, get out. This is my free time, and there's precious little of it here."

"Hundred was nearly sent to the baths with someone called Kronsteig." Instinct told him the piece of news would win him a few more seconds at her side.

Natasha peered over the edge of her book. "Was he acting like an ass?"

"Well – yes."

She snorted. "Just watch your back. You don't want to end up as Kronsteig's bitch, believe me."

"Natasha, I am no one's 'bitch'."

He had thought her eyes were blue, but in certain lights they appeared green as deep water. She eyed him thoughtfully and nodded. "Okay, I get that. You've grown up a great deal since you first appeared in my water basin, right? When we first saw each other you were a kid. My guess is a lot happened to you since then."

Loki didn't want to talk about that, but it did offer an opening. "Did you enjoy seeing me in your bath?"

"Don't try spinning your little web of seduction on me. I told you, we have very little free time, and I keep it for myself."

"And a bath with Hundred?" The question left his lips before he could bite it back, his jealousy rearing like vomit in his throat.

"What happens here is a job, and I keep it separate from who I am, what I want. Those things are hidden away until my op is complete and we get out of here." Natasha got off the bed once more and pointed at the window. "Get your magical butt back onto the ivy and up to your own room."

Loki stifled a sigh. Obviously it would take more time to win the lady to his bed, something he didn't really mind. Time was one thing he had to spare, even with the task of finding Thor. Truth be told her fierce attitude attracted him even further, making it more imperative he sink his hardness into her soft, yielding flesh. Naturally, he had to try for her favors one last time. "Will you grant me one kiss?" he asked.

Her only response was to throw back the curtains and point again at the glass.

"Very well." He hoisted himself onto the windowsill, his legs splayed wide. Without magic, Loki would have to rely on his silvered, titillating tongue. The position brought his lips close to her ear, and he whispered, "When you _do_ yield to me, Natasha, it will be ecstatic for both of us. I promise you untold delights and sensations you cannot comprehend in this dimension…"

"OUT."


	8. New Rules

_**NOTE - Just a reminder this story is not for the faint of heart; it's rated M for smut and also violence. If you have any triggers, feel free to message me and ask first before you read.**_

_**In this AU Natasha's alter-ego is named 5.**_

* * *

**8. New Rules**

* * *

"We're all being separated." 13 handled the ropes of the elevator smoothly, but the effort made her words come out in jerks. "Men on one floor, women on another, trans and drags in the attics."

"Why?" They reached the level where the kitchens lay and stopped the ropes; with a shudder the lift opened to let 13 and Natasha out. "Are they afraid we're all fucking each other and taking the goods away from clients?"

"Well, aren't we? I had two dates last night."

Natasha could believe it; 13's smooth café au lait skin and her confident attitude probably won her lots of admirers. "I just want to do my job and get out of here – plenty of time for dates later on."

"Get out of here…!" 13 paused in the act of tying on an apron. "Where are you going to go?"

"Back home." Natasha didn't want to give any more details.

"But this is home."

"Maybe for you, but not for me."

"But there isn't anywhere else. This is – are you planning to cross the lake?" 13 frowned.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's the only way out."

13 snorted, dug her hands into a huge bag of flour, and dipped out the start of the morning's bread. "_No one_ crosses the lake. You'll see."

Natasha had a tiny camera hidden in a very intimate area when she first arrived; she stashed it in her bra ready for any suspicious activity. She knew she would find a way out onto the tiny island she coveted, and from there she would make it to the mainland with video of the castle (she now had enough to incriminate the owners several times over) and discover refuge and eventual rescue. That was the hard part, figuring out how to rescue the Spider who wasn't a spider. Whoever it was.

Her senses prickled the back of her neck, and she felt any second something was about to happen – something big. Thus, when the speaker-tube on the wall wheezed and emitted a directive, Natasha wasn't phased. "5, you are expected in bath house X."

13 nearly dropped the eggs in her hands. "Did they say X?"

"Yeah." Natasha washed her hands. "Looks like my date is happening now."

* * *

The irony hit her when she arrived at bath house X. Hundred was already there, shaking with fear. Snot ran out of his nose, and he gabbled, "Not me, take her instead, not me, not me today…"

"Enough." Kronsteig wheeled out of the bath house and gestured for them to enter. "Shut your mouth if you don't want this to take all day."

Hundred stopped his line of pleas, but tiny grunts of fright escaped the corners of his mouth. Along with Natasha, he was herded into the bath: tar beach after all, with the drills and wires gleaming and polished on the wall next to a medical table. Kronsteig shot out one retractable arm, seized the boy, and pulled him to a set of restraints on the gurney. "You can watch him," the doctor said in a pleasant tone to Natasha. "It will show what's in store for you."

Natasha looked at the instruments hanging on the hooks. She could use one on the mechanized doctor, disable his body, and get Hundred out before the kid pissed himself. It would set her own plans back by a few weeks; she stifled a curse and stood, waiting calmly for her chance to strike. The mechanized man rolled forward, smacked her across the face, and grinned. "Pay attention. I don't want you to miss any of my best work." His treadles whirred as he wheeled back to the table, picked up a drill, and prepared to dig into Hundred's skin.

_Now._ Natasha planned to leap to the wall and seize a pair of long scissors hanging from a hook, trying not to imagine what Kronsteig used them for. Just as she was about to move, the doctor pushed a button and a cage descended from the ceiling with a loud clang. It landed over her, locking onto the floor. "Stay, little fly," the man said. "No interruptions from my audience while the artistry happens."

The drill in his hand buzzed again, and a fine spray of blood erupted from Hundred's hand. The boy shrieked, arched up, and his legs pounded against the metal table. "5, is that your name? I'll start with the nipples when it's your turn," Kronsteig said in a conversational tone. His other arm reached for a pair of forceps; Hundred's screams grew louder when he saw the device.

"Leave the kid alone." Natasha grasped two of the bars; they were made of heavy iron and impossible to bend. "Take me instead."

"Take her instead!" Hundred yelped. "You heard her – No! No!"

"But your cries are so exciting." Kronsteig swiveled away from Natasha and pressed another button on the tank that was his body; a metal tentacle emerged from what could be called the pelvis. "Ahhhh. See how you have me in a lather? Open your mouth, boy." The tentacle grew larger, erect - it prised Hundred's jaws open and slid inside between his lips. "Ooh. So nice – employ your tongue more freely, boy. That's it."

Natasha knelt and felt where the cage met the floor. It was set in place by some sort of trigger mechanism and magnets; there was no way she could move it. A descending cage! Seriously, was she in the middle of a comic book or a mashup fanfiction? She shook her head in disbelief both at the situation and her own stupidity.

Kronsteig's head tilted back with enjoyment as Hundred mouthed the tentacle that served, Natasha supposed, as his prick. She waved frantically at the kid, trying to get his attention; if he could free her from the cage she would be able to get them both out of there. But he was too caught up in his own misery; tears of self-pity coursed down his cheeks, and he choked on the metal tentacle in his throat. If something didn't happen soon, he would panic and drown in his own vomit. His plunges grew weaker; any minute he would expire from pure fear.

Natasha had just started to feel for the bolts holding the cage together - maybe she could take the damn thing apart - when the door to Bath house X burst open. Kronsteig ripped his metal tentacle-penis from Hundred's mouth and whirred to see who had interrupted him; several alarms in the room started to blare a hideous rhythm. Loki stood in the doorway, nostrils flaring with rage. His fist slammed on a red lever hidden behind the door, and the alarms instantly ceased. "Enough," he said through gritted teeth, striding into the room.

Smoothly Kronsteig rolled forward to meet him. On the table Hundred sat up, eyes wide with dawning hope, one hand pressed to his throat. Loki ignored Natasha and the boy as he pointed to Kronsteig and made a complicated symbol in the air.

Nothing happened. The doctor emitted a short burst of laughter. "Did you expect to blast me into your realm?" he taunted. "You kept your name, did you not - Loki? But Lucia took something much more important from you."

Natasha heard a gutteral, Norse-sounding curse as Loki reared back and slammed the flat of his hand into Kronsteig's midsection, stopping the Doctor's forward roll. "The yellow button," she called to him.

"What?" His black brows drew together.

"There. It's Kronsteig's shut-off."

One long finger avoided the twitching tentacle and pushed the yellow button. The lights on Kronsteig's torso died out, and the erect tentacle flopped onto the floor. For a short while there was silence.

"Oh my god you totally saved my ass oh my god I owe you so bad right now. I'm so sorry I was a dick to you earlier I can't believe it I couldn't breathe I thought he would cut off my balls…" Hundred couldn't seem to stop the rush of words spewing from his mouth.

Loki ignored him. "The cage," he said. "Where is the button to control it?"

"The green button." Natasha pointed to the metal table. "No, not on Kronsteig's body – under the slab where the kid's sitting."

One tiny click, and the cage rose smoothly towards the ceiling, setting her free. Natasha leapt forward, smacked Hundred across the face to calm the kid's panic, and gestured to Loki. "Kronsteig is incapacitated?"

"Yes."

"The alarm will have alerted someone, so back-up will be here any second. We need to set up a scenario when they come in."

He nodded. "I understand. My suggestion is to gag the boy or he will have a fit of hysterics."

Natasha eyed Hundred - his wet eyes, the trembling lips. "Good call. I'll tie him down – for Chrissake, Hundred, I'm going to do it loosely and let you out as soon as the coast is clear! – and you put that pile of bolts into some kind of compromising position."

"We can say he hired us to watch a sex act." Loki pushed Kronsteig to the place she had been standing; instantly she activated the cage so it descended over the tank-like doctor.

"I love it," she laughed. "And you know what? I'm going to wipe his memory when I boot his ass up before we get out so he'll never know what happened. _And_ leave him in the cage overnight. What an asshole."

The door to bath house X opened again; instantly Loki wrapped his arms around Natasha and started to nuzzle her neck. She slid one hand inside his pants, trying not to act surprised at the warm length of his erection there. "Find something you like?" he murmured into her ear.

Von Bardas looked inside the room. "What is going on in here?"

Natasha looked up as though she had just been interrupted in the middle of a tryst. "Did you want to join us, Lucia?" she asked in an innocent voice.

The cyborg's intelligent eyes took in Kronsteig within the cage, Hundred trussed up on the table, and Loki's hand thumbing Natasha's nipple. "Why did the alarms go off?"

The simplest thing was to feign ignorance. Natasha shrugged and ground her hips against Loki, trying to ignore the little shocks of delight his erection caused. _Mm, the boy had certainly grown up._

"It must have been a malfunction in the Spiders' quarters." Lucia sniffed and added, "Make certain you satisfy Dr. Kronsteig – he is a valuable customer."

"Oh, we shall," Loki purred.

Lucia regarded them steadily but seemed to accept their assessment. Slowly the door closed behind her, and Natasha withdrew her hand from Loki's pants. He grinned at her, and she felt his breath course over her face – cool, smelling of pine. The sensation made her blink, made her feel whole for the first time in weeks as though she had regained something lost.

"To be continued later?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"If you're lucky."

* * *

"_We hardly have time to stop and eat." Natasha felt amusement and exasperation blend in her voice._

"_No food since Thursday, and look at this!" Clint gestured to the huge banquet. "Just sitting there, and damn it smells good." _

"_It smells highly suspicious." She checked her wristlets and guns as she spoke, ready to take on Doombots or whatever surprises Dr. Doom had in store. "C'mon, Clint – I'll buy you burgers and beer as soon as you're done."_

"_You can't get burgers in Eastern Europe." He spoke absently, already chewing on a buttered roll. "This is the best bread I've ever had! Tasha, you have got to try this." Clint's bow fell on the floor, and he swung one leg over the seat to hunker in front of the feast._

"_Enjoy. Meanwhile I'm going to get started on reconnoiter." Natasha left him munching away at the long banquet table loaded with hams, roasts, potatoes misted with butter and parsley, piles of sugared fruit, cakes trembling with whipped cream. The food smelled amazing, but she wanted to get an idea of the layout, snap some quick pictures of the slave trade going on inside, and get the hell out._

_She was able to climb up to the main floor; it was deserted, and she stole out past long flags of rich, tattered satin. In the center of the floor stood a statue, so tiny and ancient its face had weathered away. Something about the thing made her stop, brush it with one finger, and wonder who had put it there..._

* * *

Natasha woke in her sleeping quarters inside the castle, the dream buzzing like bad static in her mind. Something had triggered her memories, and in the dark everything flooded back in a rush of horror and sadness.

It was when the entire op went south. Later she returned to find Clint had somehow morphed into a being like a huge spider; when she tried to drag him from the table he scuttled away and blended in with the other enormous arachnids. How she was going to tell which one was Clint and get him out of the castle and Latveria to a doctor – Natasha shook her head. She had pulled off a lot of impossible stunts in the past, but this one was nearly beyond her powers.

First she needed to see Lucia again. If Natasha could get into the cyborg's good graces, perhaps she could locate files on the beings kept in the cellars and figure out a way to distinguish them. Once she knew which was Clint (and at the same time discover which was the one called Thor) she could at least set up some kind of rescue and get the hell out of the terrifying castle. It wasn't much, but at least she had some sort of plan.

She pulled her spare pillow close and thought of climbing out of her window up to Loki's room. If she did go out onto the ivy and sneak in, he would welcome her with caresses and a long night of sex, as much as she wished. It would be ecstatic, it would be delicious, it would be -

No. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head. Her instincts told her it wasn't time - not yet.


	9. No Face

**9. No Face**

* * *

"Hey." Hundred hesitated within Loki's doorway, and the god looked up from his book.

"Good day." Loki put down the novel and prepared to be bored by another tedious argument with the lad.

But instead the boy came in with a worried look on his face and closed the door. "I just wanted to, you know, thank you for saving me from being Kronsteig's bottom. I've been there once before, and it really, really sucks."

"Oh." Well, that was new – apparently the little scene in the dungeons had gotten Loki into the boy's good graces. He recalled the feeling of Natasha's cool fingers sliding into his pants and hid a one-cornered smile; the affair had its own advantages. Certainly he would find a way to experience her lush flesh again. "No matter. I was also saving the girl called Five as well, you understand."

Hundred cast one apologetic glance in his direction and sat, uninvited, on Loki's bed. "You have the hots for her, right? Is that why you came to Latveria in the first place?"

Loki hooded his eyes and measured the best response. "Perhaps word of the talented redhead came my way," he said cautiously.

With a long breath, Hundred collapsed back on the bed. "You could have me, if you wanted." When Loki turned to him, astonished, the boy shrugged. "What? You're really gorgeous, and you've had men in your bed before. I can tell. I'd give you anything you want – suck you for hours, if that's your game. I'm really good at it."

The lad was dark-skinned, with brown curls flopping into his eyes; he reminded Loki of the stone-spirit he had seduced centuries before. Loki of Asgard wouldn't have thought twice before pouncing on the boy, biting his neck, twisting him over, pulling his hips close so he could thrust and thrust and thrust…the very thought made him erect. Still, it seemed Loki of Latveria was a bit more cautious. "I thank you for the offer, but no," he muttered.

"Mmhm." Hundred pillowed his head with his arms and stared at the ceiling. "Oh well, had to give it a try. Even if it's what got me in trouble before in my own country. Before I came to this place."

"Did I hear the bell?" Loki hazarded. He wanted to lie back and read some more; a clearer understanding of Natasha's fierce defense of her free time came over him.

"No, that's just a swan or something out on the lake. So, yeah – when I propositioned a really beautiful boy at a party, my sexuality became public knowledge. I was popular before – had friends, dates, invites to all the parties – after it seemed like no one knew me. Like I didn't even have a face."

Loki put down the book he was sneaking a glance at and looked fully at Hundred perhaps for the first time. "No face," he mused. "I can understand that. It was much the same for me."

"Really?" Hundred sat up. "When you came out, you mean?"

"No. It was much more complex and dangerous in my case." Loki thought of some of the more outrageous things he had done and how astonished the boy would be if he knew.

"Where do you come from?"

"A land far, far away."

Hundred surprised Loki by rolling against him and throwing one arm across his waist. "Tell me," he begged.

"About my country?"

"Well, I don't mean Latveria," Hundred retorted.

"Oh. Well, there is a huge bridge into the realm. The first thing you see is the golden spires of the palace, but as you get closer you will hear the sound of cavalry and smell the sakura blossoms. Often it snows at night, and visitors wrap in furs to drink mead on the balconies…" Loki continued, the words lulling himself as well as the boy called Hundred. It was only after he went through the stables and described each of his favorite mounts he realized Hundred had fallen asleep against his shoulder.

A tap on the window made him look up; Natasha was in the ivy. He indicated the sleeping kid and made a face. She grinned, retrieved some sort of bent wire from her sleeve, and broke into his room.

* * *

"I never would have picked you as the nurturing type." She sat on the other side of bed, watching the kid sleep.

"As a matter of fact, I have three children." Loki snickered at the shock in her eyes.

"I don't know why I'm surprised – you're very handsome. Why did Hundred come here?"

Loki adjusted his body so he could cradle the boy more easily and move closer to Natasha at the same time. "He wanted to thank us for saving him from the disgusting metal doctor man. And he asked about my home, and I told him. Natasha, what is 'coming out'?"

"He told you about that, huh?" She leaned across Loki's legs and gently stroked Hundred's ankle. "In some societies having sex with someone of the same gender is frowned on. I think he went through a lot when he revealed that side of his nature to his family – otherwise known as coming out."

"Ah, that makes sense. He told me he knew I…" Loki stopped, and she looked amused.

"That you had affairs with men as well as women? Don't worry – I'm certainly not going to judge you for it. I've had my own time with women, you know – I fell in love with a few girls before."

Loki pictured her kissing and caressing another female, and his breath hitched in his throat. "Natasha," he began.

She made an inquiring noise and stretched out to lie in the circle of his arm. For a moment Loki felt warm, accepted, as though friendship could possibly be part of his world. "What's up?" she asked.

"I must admit something to you." Loki's voice dropped to a whisper.

"Okay."

"It is not very nice."

"Okay."

Loki stared at the ceiling and for the second time started to talk about Asgard, everything terrible he had done there. Perhaps describing the realm to the boy called Hundred had opened the floodgates; he told her all his petty jealousies, about cutting off Sif's hair, about seducing the stones and trees, about Angrboda and his children. In a way, it was his own 'coming out.'

Very gently she smoothed one hand over his stomach. "I think we all have dark shadows in our past here, Loki. I certainly do."

He shifted away from Hundred onto his side to face her and interlace his fingers with hers. "It gets worse. I got so drunk one night I managed to lose the friendship of everyone in the room by betraying my affairs with most of the guests in the crowd assembled there. What do you think of that?"

Natasha hunched one shoulder. "Don't remember much of my past life, but I'm pretty sure I've been there. I'm all about lots of alcohol, and I have a pretty foul mouth even when I'm sober." She played with his knuckles for a minute before asking, "But that isn't all, is it? There's something worse – a memory that burns so you can hardly bear it. Tell me."

Loki squeezed his eyes shut; he felt one tear scald his cheek. With many stops and misplaced words, he related the terrible story of what he had done to Sigyn.

"Okay." Natasha tickled his jaw with her nose. "It's bad – _really_ bad. I won't lie to you. But you can make it better, somehow. We'll find a way." Her face was clear of hatred, disdain, pity. A shaft of knowledge speared him, and he saw he had coveted Natasha since the first sight of her in his wild youth for her bright hair, her plump lips, the careless beauty she wore like a silk gown. Now he found there was far more to her than that – her own wickedness, which she seemed to acknowledge with pure courage. A thriving intelligence. Vivid imagination. A magical innocence. In one instant his desires spilled over into something far more dangerous.

Carefully, Loki brushed his lips against her cheek. "Hey," she whispered. "The kid." He eyed the shape in the bed next to them; Hundred slept with his mouth open, snoring slightly. Loki swore, and Natasha laughed quietly. "I don't think it's our time yet in any case," she insisted. "We need to redeem ourselves first – perhaps rescue our friends and get Hundred to a safe place. Not his village – that place sucked for him. Somewhere he can be himself and not get punished for what he is."

Frustration burned his throat, but somehow Loki managed to keep his temper under control. Perhaps the events of the Sigyn affair had taught him temperance even though he burned for Natasha. "I have behaved myself since arriving here," he said into her ear. "Do I not deserve some reward?"

"I'll help you with your plans. Is that enough of a reward? You'll need to tell me all about your brother, and I'll tell you what I remember about Clint - perhaps those memories will aid us to get their asses out of the Spider Pit or whatever it's called. We need to find your other friend – perhaps your brother can help us with that part when we rescue him. Then we must find a way out of Latveria for us and for Hundred."

"A great deal to plan for." Loki felt hopelessness circle his veins.

Natasha hopped up and beckoned to him. "I want to show you something." He rose and joined her at the crumbling windowsill, and she pointed through the ivy-covered glass. "See over there, in the corner of the lake? There's one tiny island on its own, nothing more than a large rock covered with trees and grass. I've been watching it as long as I've been here. I don't know why, but I have the feeling if I can get there, I'll be safe."

He dared to slip one arm around her slender waist, feel the muscle and steel of her dancer's body. "Maybe I can come with you."

"Exactly what I was thinking." She smiled at him, and he surged forward to capture the dimple in the corner of her chin; like a flashing minnow it was gone. Loki sighed as she brushed her lips gently over his; the touch electrified him and jolted to his sex.

"So are you two a Thing now?" Hundred had woken; the boy sat up and scrubbed one eye with his fist.

"Maybe." Natasha released herself, sat back on the bed, and bumped Hundred's knee with her toe. "It's peaceful here, in the room with you two. I feel like I can breathe for the first time in forever."

"Me too." Loki stretched out between them; instantly Hundred curled up on his shoulder once more.

"Don't forget we still have to do whatever they order, with whomever they want. I hate to burst this fragmented family bubble we got going on here, but it's reality." Hundred looked up into Loki's face with a wet, searching gaze.

Loki and Natasha exchanged a grim glance. "We'll just have to deal," she said.

* * *

The kid was right. That night the entire castle was summoned to a party; Loki arrived with Hundred in tow since the boy seemed to have appropriated him. Natasha waited in the shadows with the dark girl she called Thirteen; as soon as she and Loki saw each other across the room, their eyes locked with a distinct click as though there were no others in the entire cursed land called Latveria.

The lovely cyborg called Lucia selected Natasha for a dance. Loki waited by the pillars, but he was pulled onto the dance floor by a tall, dark man with one mechanized eye. Prince Zorba maneuvered Loki around the dance floor with careless brutality, his severe good looks hinting at violent sensuality underneath.

As he waltzed with the prince and felt the man's erection on his thigh, Loki caught Natasha's eyes, again with the characteristic click as they aligned in perfect understanding. He grinned suddenly, and she smiled back, mischief patent in every line of her body.

It was then he knew. They were so alike, it didn't matter what they did with anyone else. Between them was a purity no one could touch, a stamp of desire thrumming in the very air like electric enchantment. By the Staff of the Allfather, it was magic.

So when Prince Zorba guided Loki to his chambers, undressed, and collapsed on the bed shaking with lust (a hopeless submissive, Loki realized) the act was peremptory, for no one could reach that center he had given Natasha. The god raised his hand, struck the man's cheek and received praises and promises for each blow, before he thrust into the trembling crevice and deliberately made each stroke as cruel as possible.

None of it mattered. The hidden heart of him lay beyond the waves on the little island, a secret among the trees and stones.

* * *

Much later he slipped down the ivy into Natasha's room and between her sheets. She woke at once, and Loki pulled her to his chest so he could whisper into her ear, "I couldn't sleep with the taste of Zorba on my mouth."

She nodded and allowed him to wind his arms under her neck and over her waist. "How did it go?"

Loki shrugged. "He lost his energy long before I lost mine. And you?"

"The same. Lucia again. I suppose her sensors and batt power run down too fast to keep up with me."

"Please." The longing overwhelmed him, and he cupped her face with one hand; Loki knew the pleading expression he had once seen in his lovers' eyes was mirrored on his face. "Please, please, let me…" He couldn't talk any longer; his lips trembled with desire.

Natasha's mouth quirked, and he recognized the mischief in her eyes. She was just like him, if he could lose the darkness that had consumed his body, soul, even his magic before Lucia had taken that part of him away. Loki couldn't stop the shivers in his blood, his nerves, his – yes. There too. And when she let him kiss her mouth, and when those lush lips parted so he could breathe the same air as she did, and when his tongue tasted hers for the first time, a frisson of electric energy shot down his spine to the frantic tickle between his legs.

For the first time since he was a youth by the rocks and trees, Loki reached orgasm through kiss and desire alone as he released in his breeches.


	10. Symkaria

**10. Symkaria**

* * *

It seemed Zorba was content to have Loki as his chosen consort over the next few weeks; the prince continued to ask for his services each evening. It was a way to slake some of his lust, Loki thought, and Zorba's firm, muscled flesh was pleasing enough. As well, the man's submissive nature allowed Loki to work out his anger during their sessions; he beat the prince's shoulders, back, and tight ass with a riding crop until Zorba sobbed his release word: Symkaria. Loki had no idea what it meant; he only knew it meant he had to stop the punishment and thrust brutally until Zorba cried in release.

And after each scene Loki climbed down to Natasha's room, where she lay covered with a tattered quilt. "I stole something," she whispered as he collapsed onto her bed and nuzzled her neck. "Do you want to see?"

Nose quivering with interest, Loki nodded. The Aesir were so serious and concerned with their courtly reputations; to find someone who would engage in mischief was exquisite. He frowned as she produced a battered book with a plain brown paper cover, reflecting it didn't seem worth the trouble. "What is it?" he asked.

"The tech manual for Mistress von Bardas. It explains each aspect of her physiognomy – I'm going to learn how to pleasure her so thoroughly she literally loses consciousness when I'm done with her."

Loki paged through a few sections. "Literally studying how to fuck your lover? Sounds unbearably tedious. I would not waste the time on Zorba."

Natasha moved closer and whispered in Loki's ear. "She'll want me even more than she does now. Lucia will become so desperate for my touch she will do anything, tell me all her secrets."

Her voice tickled his neck, and Loki shuddered with the sensation. "What will you do then?"

"Do you really have to ask?"

Their faces were so close, a hair's breadth away from a kiss. "No, I suppose I don't."

"You could do the same to Zorba."

"Zorba is already in thrall to me," Loki declared. "Besides, that fool is good for nothing more than slaking some of my lust so I can lie this close to you without losing my sanity." Natasha tried to turn away, but with one sharp movement he got her chin and forced her to look at him. "Don't you see how sweet this agony is? I've wanted you for so long – nearly all my life. But that youthful passion was nothing compared to…"

"Enough." Apparently Natasha wanted nothing of silver words. "I told you not now."

"Which is the exact reason Zorba has his uses, and the only thing compelling me to submit to this ridiculous servitude. And as I was saying, what I once thought was mere desire has grown. Your intelligence and trickery have slain me more thoroughly than any beautiful vision in the water." Loki stopped, thrust her away, and rose from the bed.

"Where are you going?" Natasha propped herself up on her elbows.

With a short, harsh laugh he strode to the window. "I see now I was wrong about slaking my lust. If I stay here any longer I'll have you one way or another." He thrust up the window, swung out onto the ivy, and climbed up to his room.

* * *

Loki refused to clean, cook, or serve during the day. He spent the morning and afternoon avoiding the orders from Lucia and Zorba, heart soaring as he escaped one task after another. In his mind he considered what he did for the one-eyed prince enough of a job.

He had just stolen fresh bread from the kitchen when he heard Lucia's sharp voice and the taps of her high heels on the paving stones; with a wicked grin he slunk out onto a balcony and emerged in the large room running through the center of the palace. The place shivered with the lonely sensation of an ancient room in shafts of dusty light; one gleaming arrow of sun picked out the tiny, faceless statue hidden near a wall. Loki touched the thing gently with the pad of his thumb; it seemed something waited within and called to him. Pure fancy? Or actual spirit? He had learned not to ignore his feelings when it came to hidden spirits; his experiences with trees and rocks had taught him that much. Thus, perhaps…

A stream of breath on his neck. Loki jumped and saw Natasha behind him. "Not many people can do that," he said with a shaky laugh.

"Sneak up on you? No one can do it to me." Her eyes glinted with smug mischief.

"Now that is a challenge."

His imagination was caught; Loki forgot the stone until Natasha covered his hand with hers. "Looking at the little statue? It's the only thing that seems real in here, if you know what I mean. Everything else is… inauthentic. Implausible."

"Yes." Loki caressed the place where the thing's face had worn away. "I was just thinking it feels like something waits within."

"Hey, you two." Beaming with triumph, Hundred bore down on them and wound his arms around their waists. "Admiring Sif's Colossus?"

Loki froze. "What did you call it?"

Hundred shrugged. "It's kind of a cruel joke, since the thing is so tiny. Always been called that, though."

"Sif's Colossus," Natasha repeated. She gave Loki one penetrating glance. "How old is it?"

"I dunno. Before my time and a lot older than that, I'd bet. Anyway, how about drinks later?"

Natasha twisted and gave the boy a warm hug. "Sounds great. I'll see if I can get bath tokens from Lucia for the three of us."

"Really?" Hundred's eyes sparkled. "That would be – really? You want me there too?"

"Yes." Her voice was firm. "We want you there too."

* * *

At the dance in Prince Zorba's arms, Loki permitted the man to whisper in his ear. "I've been so naughty," the prince hissed. "You'll need to tie me up, work me over for hours."

Across the room, Loki watched Natasha break away from Lucia's kiss and smooth the woman's hair with her hands. Her eyes locked with Loki's, and he felt a strange sense of security, as though he had found a warm place to stay during a torrential downpour. Other couples swam in and out of his vision, but they were shadows; only Natasha's blue-green gaze and red curls had any meaning.

Zorba pushed his erection against Loki's hip. Lucia tilted her head and kissed Natasha full on her mouth, in front of everyone. It was the rule of the castle, Loki began to realize – if visitors had enough money anything was possible. Over Lucia's shoulder Natasha caught his glance and held it – steady, intent, overwhelmingly true.

* * *

As soon as he left Zorba's rooms, Natasha appeared in a dark corner of the hallway, beckoning to him. "Hundred is waiting for us in the baths," she whispered. "I thought we could talk on the way."

Loki groaned. "Do we really have to bathe with the boy? I want to sleep on your shoulder until dawn."

"Did Zorba tax your energies?"

"No, indeed. In truth I have never found a lover who can outlast me – they always grow tired before I do."

Natasha nodded. "It's the same for me."

"Is that so?" Loki reached for her, but she avoided him.

"Don't get all excited right before our bath. Hundred will get the wrong ideas. In any case, I wanted to ask you about the Colossus. You snapped to attention when Hundred said the name, like a dog catching the scent of a racoon."

"What is 'racoon?' And Dog is not very complimentary."

"Like a wolf on the prowl, then. That sexy enough for you?" Natasha grinned at him, unperturbed. She had a flight of tiny, golden freckles misting under her eyes like a dancer's veil, and despite the lengthy session with Zorba Loki suddenly felt weak with desire.

"Much better. And it was the name I found intriguing – Sif. She was Thor's lover and the reason he came here in the first place, to search for her when she went missing." He snuck his arm around her waist, and this time she allowed it.

"Sif." Natasha rolled the word on her tongue. "A beautiful name. But the statue has been here for decades, maybe centuries. Did you see its face? All weathered away, as though countless people touched it or it was sandblasted. If your brother's girlfriend just disappeared, it couldn't be a connection."

"I think time works differently here." Cautiously Loki got one thumb under her breast and stroked; Natasha didn't seem to notice. "When did I first appear in your water bowl?"

"Huh. Maybe a few weeks ago?" She wrinkled her nose, considering, making the freckles dance.

"Natasha, that was centuries ago for me."

She stopped and gripped his robe to look up into his face. "Just how old are you?"

Loki tilted back his head. "Nearly seven centuries." Her mouth fell open, and he added, "Now you think my story is the work of insanity? Are you convinced my mind has crumpled under my evil deeds?"

"Get over yourself." Natasha bumped his side in a friendly fashion. "First of all, I noticed you were growing older pretty quickly, so that backs up your story. Second, you're not that evil. Third, if you tell me a faceless statue holds the spirit of your friend, I've seen stranger things in my time. Now, what do you need me to do?"

Stopping suddenly, Loki pulled her into his arms. "Be you." His voice was muffled in her ridiculous, tattered robe. She should have been wearing the finest furs and velvet Asgard could offer, and instead she shivered in cheap silks and threadbare slippers. "Just be you."

A struggle set her free. "Seriously. How will you free Sif's spirit from that pile of granite?"

"In truth, I cannot. My magic is gone…"

There was a whoop at the other end of the hall and Hundred ran to tackle them. The boy cast himself into Natasha's arms, then Loki's, then Natasha's again. "You are like a spaniel," Loki grumbled.

"A spaniel with bubbles. I stole a bottle of champagne for us – it's piss-warm, but it'll get us happy." Hundred pushed a bottle into Loki's hand, thrust his arms through theirs and dragged them to the lift, singing some tune about Lions and Tigers and Bears.

And as he accompanied the boy into the baths and reclined next to him with Natasha on the other side, Loki regarded them both with half-closed eyes. In the middle of the knottiest problem he had ever come across, below floors filled with shoddy whores and grasping heads of state as he and Natasha lay in an underground bath drinking lukewarm wine, somehow it seemed he had found something.

Hundred tilted his head back and started in on a long story about his client. Under the cover of half-hearted bubbles in the bath, Loki stretched his legs and caressed Natasha's ankle with his toes. She extended one arm around the kid, careless of her soapy breasts pressing against him, and fondled Loki's wet curls with her elegant fingers. Lulled by the heat of the water, the wine, and her touch he allowed his aching heart to uncurl out of the hard knot it had been tied into for so long.

in the middle of a long ramble about blowjobs and how he had the best mouth in town, the boy fell asleep. Natasha slipped out of the bath and wound her robe around her wet flesh. Loki picked up the boy in his arms and lifted him out of the water and bore Hundred to the door with all the gentleness he once showed Fenrir as a cub; Natasha stopped him there to trace the outline of his lips with her thumb. As he whispered quick words of love, unable to hold back any longer, Loki realized he had found a strange little family.


End file.
